


The Way of Time

by Fedeipox



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 90,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fedeipox/pseuds/Fedeipox
Summary: When Emily opened her eyes, for a moment she forgot. She forgot she had made a strange kind of journey, an impossible kind of journey, a journey not in space but in time. She forgot, or her mind had wanted to forget, because of the shock it had been for her.Can you imagine? What would you do in her place? Just think about it: you lose everything you have, everything you are and everything you know. Wouldn't you go crazy? Panic? It takes a great strength of both mind and body not to start crying out in desperation, and this is exactly the type of strength Emily had had that morning, when she opened her eyes and after a moment of oblivion, she realized where she was.Emily was strong, indeed, she just didn't know.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

She opened her eyes all at once and accordingly her senses awakened. It happened altogether: her skin shivered at the contact with the cold air, the muscles of her neck contracted and ached because of the position she was laying, her ears captured some muffled noises of birds and voices in the distance, the place smelled of coal and rusty steel and the floor under her was freezing.  
The only sense which wasn’t working was her sight: all around her was black, but she could feel her eyes were actually open. To be sure of it, she brought her fingers, stiff because of the cold, to her face and touched her eyelids. Yes, her eyes were open, but everything was dark anyway.  
Afraid that she might have gone blind, she slowly lifted her back and sat upright, blinking wildly and moving her head from left to right trying to catch something. There was some light, a long thin blue light line at the base between the floor and what had to be some kind of door.  
She wasn’t blind! She was just inside some dark cold room. Her room? No, her room had carpet on the floor and it had never been this cold, even in the coldest winter nights, and now it was May, how could the temperature be this low?  
She took the two sides of her hoodie and closed the zip on her t-shirt. Then, she stood up and took a couple of steps towards the light line. The wall she leaned her hands on was made of the same freezing steel of the floor, but knocking on it she could feel it was empty. It was definitely a door.  
She started searching for the handle and in the meantime she kept asking herself how she might have ended in a place like that. She clearly remembered she was on the train, seated at her place, listening to music and scrolling on Instagram, so how on earth could she be there?  
Instagram…  
The torch light of her phone!  
She started patting her hands on herself, searching every pocket of her jeans and her hoodie, but no trace of it. They must have left it behind when they took her. Because that was the only assumption she could make: somebody kidnapped her. Otherwise, how could it be she didn’t remember how she got there?  
Yes, she was already figuring it in her mind: they hit her head with something heavy - even though she didn’t feel any pain on her head - tied her and brought her to that place. How could they have taken her on the train, among all those people in the carriage with her, without anyone noticing? And, why did they took her? Perhaps to ask her parents for her ransom, they thought her family to be rich. But how could they be?  
Her father was an employee, her mother hadn’t worked a day in her life and they lived in a little house in the suburbs of Saint Denis. She couldn’t even afford college so she took a gap year to work as waitress and save some money to help her parents with the college fee. Except the gap year had lasted five years and now she had no high education nor high expectations for her future.  
But that was a different story.  
So no phone, no light. And now what?  
She took a step backwards rubbing her hands together to warm them a little. That place was too cold. Maybe they put her inside one of those big refrigerators where they store the meat, just like in the movies.  
Ah! She couldn’t believe she was living a movie scene.  
Some voices caught her attention. They were male voices. Her kidnappers? She thought it was better if they didn’t know she was awake. But then another sound reached her ears, more distant but also louder. A train whistle. Was she still on the train?  
She couldn’t keep silent anymore, she wanted to know what was going on.  
“Hey!” she shouted and her voice thundered inside the steel room, returning to her ears twice as powerful.  
She frowned in the darkness, regretting immediately her act. Then, the floor under her feet moved with a strong jolt and she lost her balance falling on her side and hitting her head on the hard floor.  
She immediately brought a hand on her temple and massaged the hurting spot, hoping she didn’t cracked her head open. She couldn’t stand the sight of blood, even if her mother had always told her it was stupid for a woman to be scared of blood, since she saw it every month, but she couldn’t help it. And by the way, she wasn’t scared of blood, she just preferred to keep it on the inside.  
As the train started moving and the floor of the car shacked and bounced on the trails, she crawled and reached the side of the room, laying her back on the wall and bringing her knees to her chest.  
If she had to be honest with herself, she wasn’t scared. Well, of course she was a little worried: she didn’t know where she was, where they were taking her, who those people were, but she could do nothing about it, she didn’t have any way out, and be afraid would only make things worse. She needed her head clear and ready to find a solution. Like that movie with that famous actor she liked so much, where he played the part of a psycho with multiple personality who kidnapped three girls and the smartest one was the one who kept calm and tried to find an escape for all of them.  
Right, she had to be like that girl, smart and calm.  
But being calm wasn’t easy in her situation, not when the frozen air got inside her cotton sweatshirt and reached her neck, making her shiver, and neither when she couldn’t feel her toes inside her sneakers anymore. And being smart was unnecessary at that moment and until the train would have stopped.  
When would it have stopped?

Every now and then she could feel the carriage under her slowing down with a thin whistle of the brakes or speed up, bending on one side or the other according to the course of the trails.  
With every slowdown she hoped to stop. She didn’t care anymore where she was or who her kidnappers were, she wanted to get down that thing and find something to warm herself up.  
At first she was so deep in her thoughts and groggy because of the cold that she didn’t heard it, but when the sound started to be closer and closer, she became aware of it and opened her ears to be sure of what she was hearing.  
Gunshots?  
She never really heard a gun firing in real life, so she couldn’t say if it really was it, but she heard it on TV. How different could it be?  
Now the shots were really close, right out the car she was in it seemed, and with them she also perceived some people talking.  
“What the hell was Bill doing? He had long enough to set that charge” said one voice. He sounded young.  
“Well, I hooked up the wire, but we won’t mention that” answered another male voice. He seemed to her a little bit older.  
They were right out the car. She could have yelled for help, but she didn’t. They were shooting, attacking the train she was in, and asking for help didn’t seem right. Who fires a gun generally isn’t the good guy. She learned that watching the news on TV: the bad guys always shoot, the good guys intimate you to put the gun down, but hardly ever shoot.  
Some steps above her made her look up: they were walking on the roof of the car. One of the two fired again. She brought her arms up to cover her head.  
She didn’t like that situation, she felt in danger, even more than before. Her kidnappers were being attacked, maybe by a worst kind of people, maybe by dangerous criminals, like the mafia. She had heard a lot about the mafia: they were dangerous, ruthless, the worst kind of criminals on earth. Maybe this was a settling of accounts between two gangs.  
The two men went away, following the line of carriages, and with them the sound of their firearms.  
It didn’t took long before a powerful jolt made her lose her balance so that she had to lean on the floor with her forearms not to hit her head again. The train was stopping, but she wasn’t too happy about it. The criminals were stopping it. The other criminals.  
She was finally able to stand up on her half frozen, half fallen asleep legs and stumble towards the line of light at the base of the wall to lean an ear on it and try to listen what was happening outside.  
It wasn’t hard to understand the fight was still going on because the people out there were still shooting and yelling. They must have been in a very isolated part of the country, she thought, because it was impossible that the civilians hadn’t called the police when they heard the guns.  
A bullet hit the side of the carriage, leaving a little perfectly round shaped hole in the steel a couple of inches away from her head. She gasped loudly and let herself fall back on the floor. It wasn’t a good idea to stand, not until they had stopped shooting.  
She didn’t wait long. When silence fell and the only sound was her breathing echoing inside the room, she stood up and leaned again her ear on the door.  
“I can see now why the O’Driscolls brought so many boys up here for this” she heard the same young voice of before saying right out of her car.  
He was there, right there. Was it wise to reveal her presence? She didn’t care, she was freezing and, criminals or not, she wanted to get out of there. She summoned all her courage and knocked on the steel door.  
“Hey!” she added to the knocking.  
“Please… please help. Help me get out of here” she begged with a loud tone, but without yelling to avoid the echo of her voice to return too strong in her ears.  
Silence fell and she wondered if he had listened to her. Then, she thought that maybe it was better if she sat again on the floor, just in case the man out there was about to shoot her from the outside.  
A clang and the sound of two pieces of iron that rub one against the other anticipated the strong light that blinded her. After hours in the complete darkness, that light was unbearable for her.  
She closed her eyes and felt as every human being feels when they are forced to keep their eyes shut in a dangerous situation: weak and exposed. She blinked a couple of times and tried to cover the excessive light with one hand as she took some steps backwards.  
“Who are you?” asked the young voice.  
She didn’t answer, she didn’t want to. Reveal her identity to a stranger and potential criminal would have been a mistake. Her eyes started to get used to the light. Standing against the clear white background there was the shape of a man, dark because of the contrast, so that she couldn’t see his face. However, she could perfectly understand he was pointing a shotgun at her. All her courage abandoned her.  
“Please, please don’t” she whimpered kneeling down and holding her hands in a begging gesture.  
“Don’t kill me” she added looking at the dirty floor of the car.  
“Hey! Come here a moment” she heard the man shouting. He was calling his friends. She couldn’t tell if this was a bad or good thing.


	2. Who do you think you are?

Lenny put the rifle down and looked at the girl. What was she doing inside that carriage? Was she one of Cornwall’s associates? Why was she dressed in that funny way?  
“Don’t kill me” she repeated.  
He didn’t want to kill her. He might have never killed her. Cornwall’s associate or not, she was just a girl.  
“What?” asked Arthur coming closer and looking inside the car.  
“Ooh shit” he whispered when he spotted the blonde figure kneeling down in a prayer position.  
Javier peeked inside too and then Lenny and him exchanged a puzzled look. What were they supposed to do? Leave her there? Bring her with them? They were in the middle of a job and right now she was just a complication.   
“Miss” called Arthur leaning towards her skinny figure.  
“Miss” he called again when she didn’t answer.  
She slowly raised her head and opened her eyes to look at him.  
“Me?” she asked in disbelief.  
“Yes, what’s your name?”  
She stared at him with those big brown eyes that reminded him of a deer. She was pretty. And scared, which made her even prettier.  
“Come, come out of there” he said when he received no answer to his previous question.  
He stretched out a hand expecting her to take it, but she didn’t. She eyed him from head to toe and then stood up by herself, bringing her arms to her chest in an act that stated she was freezing.  
Arthur couldn’t help but notice the funny way she was dressed, and so did Javier looking at her tight pants and that shirt with the hood she had, not to mention those bizarre shoes.  
“Where do you come from?” asked Arthur incapable to withhold his curiosity.  
She moved her eyes from him to Javier and then Lenny, but just like before she didn’t bother to reply. That lack of answer was starting to annoy him and at the same time he started to think she was hiding something. But they had work to do, he couldn’t waste all day with a girl.  
“Okay, listen, come with us, we have a camp, four walls and a roof, a place you can warm up and be safe” he said trying to convince her to get out of that damn train.  
She kept studying them and the same did they. It was like they came from two different universes. At last, she took her decision, taking some steps forward and getting off the carriage.  
“Come, Lenny here will give you a blanket” said Arthur leaning a hand on her shoulder and nodding towards the boy.  
He wanted to show her to Dutch, he would surely know what to do with her. 

...

As soon as she stepped out she immediately noticed the snow. Show! In May? How could that be possible?   
The wierdo with the blue coat and the handsome face asked her her name and where she came from, but she didn’t answer, she didn’t want to tell them anything about her and at the first occasion she had had, her intention was to run away from that place and those people.  
“Come, Lenny here will give you a blanket” said the man nodding towards the boy with dark skin.  
Lenny, upon who she laid her eyes, just like the others was dressed in a very strange way, in an old way. Was she in some kind of play? A movie? Were they actors? Why were they dressed in that way and why were they looking at her like she was some kind of alien?   
There was another thing that caught her attention as she admired both their clothes and the place she was: the train. It wasn’t one of the new ones, but one of the old coal-powered locomotives. Those things were no longer working for at least fifty years, except those used in the train museums. How could it be there still was one on the trails? And, that day she had taken a normal train to go to work, a modern train, so how could it be she was in there?  
The boy called Lenny was leading her to another group of men. She noticed they were all dressing in that way, with those cowboy hats, those long heavy coats and those shotguns hanging on their backs.  
No, that couldn’t be real, it must have been some kind of joke. And a bad one too, because the more she was seeing, the more she was getting afraid. Who did that had a terrible sense of humor.   
“Who is this?” asked one of the men as they all turned in her direction and looked at her from head to toe.   
He had a black coat and hat and a red and white checkered kerchief on his face, which he pulled down to speak.  
“Found her in one of the cars” answered the handsome wierdo from behind her.  
She moved her eyes on the other men who now where following the example of the wierdo with the picnic tablecloth and were revealing their faces: there was one with a blond walrus mustache, one pretty big and one who looked like a Native American but darker.   
“What’s your name, Miss?” asked the picnic-man.   
That was the second time they called her Miss. It was a little old style, but there everything looked old style. Just like before she didn’t answer and stared back at the man asking herself what they wanted from her. She felt a couple of hands on her and jumped, taking a step away from whoever was touching her. It was Lenny, who brought her the blanket and was leaning it on her shoulders.  
“Whoah! Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you” he said.  
“We don’t mean you no harm, Miss. Why were you on that train?” asked again the picnic-man.  
The truth was, she didn’t know.  
“Are you one of Mr. Cornwall’ associates?”  
Mr. who? Maybe this buddy was the other criminal, the one they were fighting, the mafia boss she pictured in her mind, the one who kidnapped her.  
She shook her head vigorously.  
The man who asked her all the questions sighed and then turned to look at the rest of his people.  
“Okay, Lenny, take the Miss away from here. When we’re done we’ll bring her to camp” he said then putting the picnic kerchief on his face again and giving his back at her to face the other men.  
“Gentlemen, let’s go back to work” he added.  
To camp? They wanted to take her with them?   
“No” she exclaimed making the man turn to look at her again.  
She wanted to go home, not to some God knows where camp, and to do that she had to finally break her silence. Criminals or actors or what the heck they were, she would explain them her situation and ask them to lend her one of their phones so that she could call home.  
“I want to go home. Please. They took me, I don’t know how, but they must have found a way to take me. If you… if you could lend me a phone, I would like to call my mom” she said all in one breath. 

...

Dutch looked at the girl, without fully understanding what she was saying. Took her, phone, call her mom: what was she talking about?  
“You’ve been kidnapped?” he asked.  
“Yes, I don’t know how, but they did” she replied more firmly.  
“Who’s they?” he asked again, thinking about some kind of lie she was making up to avoid being taken and questioned.  
He didn’t trust her one bit. Why should Cornwall’s men kidnap an oddly dressed girl?  
“I don’t know. I woke up in there and then you people stopped the train and started asking me all this questions” she replied frustrated. She looked like she was telling the truth.  
“Can I borrow a phone, please? I just want to make a quick call to my mum and tell her where I am so she can pick me up” she added addressing his men behind him.  
Dutch looked at Arthur, at the girl’s back, asking him with the eyes what the hell she was talking about. When he shrugged, making him understand he had no idea, Dutch exchanged a look with the rest of his men. None of them seemed to understand.  
“Where you come from?” he asked to the girl.   
He preferred to change topic than reveal he had no idea of what she was saying. The girl looked a little uneasy to divulge this information, but in the end she said: “Saint Denis.”  
So, she came from the city. Dutch quickly took his decision: they would have completed the job they went there for and then he would have brought the girl to camp. If she was telling the truth, they would have taken her home. A little trip to Saint Denis wouldn’t be a burden on them.  
“Lenny why don’t you take her away from here. We have a job to finish” Dutch said to the boy.  
On the girl’s face appeared some worry.  
“We’ll all be back to camp for tonight and tomorrow we’ll take you home, Miss” he added addressing her with a soothing voice.  
She seemed about to say something, but he didn’t want to waste any more time with her, he was there for something more important. He turned his back at her and addressed Cornwall’s men inside the last carriage. He had to find a way to make them get out of there without a fuss.  
“Hey! Inside there! Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any of ya!” he yelled.

...

She wanted to tell him something, but the man turned his back at her and started yelling threats towards the train car. She didn’t want to go with them. Why couldn’t she just borrow a phone to call her mom? Was it so difficult to understand she had nothing to do with that Mr. Cornwall he seemed to hate so much?  
Lenny pushed her away, but she didn’t move her eyes form the group of men, who now were taking pistols and rifles and charging them, while the one who she thought to be the boss kept threatening the men in the train.  
“Wake ‘em up a little” he shouted and immediately after they started firing.  
She jumped at the sound of the shots and couldn’t help let out a loud squeaky scream. Then, she threw herself on the ground covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes, wanting them to stop it.   
“Hey, what are you doing? Stand up, you have nothing to worry about, they’re just scaring them” said the boy of color taking her shoulders and trying to make her stand.  
She shook her shoulders pushing his hands away. Why had they to use those guns so much? She reopened her eyes as soon as the noise stopped.  
“Mr. Williamson, give Mr. Morgan and Mr. Smith some dynamite, you two boys, go blow that door open” ordered the gang boss.  
Dynamite? Blow open? Who were those people? How could they think no-one was going to hear them and call the police? She thought that it would have taken little time for that to happen, someone who lived around there would have called the cops any time now, even though it seemed no-one lived around there, and she had no idea where “there” was.  
She followed the movements of those strange men as one of them truly took some dynamite from his bag and handed it to the handsome wierdo with the blue coat, who approached the carriage with the dark Native. She kept staring at them in bewilderment while they placed the explosives, lighted them up and drew back.   
She covered her ears again just in time when the explosion happened. Those dudes were crazy! Completely out of their fucking minds!  
She stood up and her knees trembled a little, but she tried not to mind it. She wanted to go away, as far away as possible from those old style insane criminals who wanted to take her with them. She took a step backwards, tightening the blanket around her shoulders and trying to turn around to run away, but the boy called Lenny stopped her.   
“No, no, listen, you have to let me go” she said looking straight at him and pushing his hands away.  
“You can’t go, it’s too dangerous, with us you’ll be safe” he replied grabbing her from her arms to stop her from running.  
“No, no, you people are crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Guns and explosives, really? Who do you think you are?” she asked starting to laugh hysterically.   
She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, that had to be some kind of dream, but it didn’t look like a dream. Her dreams were generally confused and random, this was too real.   
She took a piece of her skin under her sweatshirt and pinched it as hard as she could. They said to do it in order to wake up from a dream, but she always thought it was bullshit, and when it didn’t work, and she found herself in that same situation, she knew for sure that it was bullshit.   
“You are quite crazy, lady, you know that?” asked Lenny watching her with perplexity.  
“Mr. Summers, would you bring the young Miss here, please?” asked the gang boss raising a hand and making sign to reach him.

...

Lenny leaded her to Dutch who in the meantime had made the three men come out of the carriage and kneel down in a line in front of him.  
“Go search the train with Micah and Arthur” Dutch ordered him pointing at the blown up door.  
Then, he addressed the girl with no name looking at her with suspicious eyes. Now, they would have found out if she was telling the truth.  
“Do you know these men, Miss?” he inquired pointing his finger to the three people.  
She seemed to study carefully their appearance before shaking her head.  
“And you say these people kidnapped you?” he asked again moving his inquisitive eyes from the girl’s face to Cornwall’s men.   
“Yes” she answered plainly.  
Just as he expected the three men, after a quick glance at the girl, exchanged a puzzled look between them. They had no idea of who that woman was.  
“Did you steal this lady, gentlemen?” he asked as the thing started to amuse him.  
“We never saw her in our lives” answered the one on the right.  
“But she came out of one of your cars” he said matter-of-factly.  
The men exchanged another look.  
“We know nothing about it” said the one on the left.  
Now, Dutch looked again at the girl, who stared back at him, and it seemed she didn’t know what to say anymore.  
“Did you lie to me?” he asked.  
He knew that by saying this he would disquiet her, but that was exactly what he wanted: he wanted her to reveal herself for what she really was.  
“No, I didn’t. I have no idea of who these people are” she replied firmly, looking at him right in the eye.  
“She’s not one of ours” said the men on the left, making Dutch look at him. She wasn’t lying after all.   
“Dutch” called Arthur from behind him.  
“What did you find?” he asked.  
“These” Arthur answered handing him some papers. “Bonds. They worth anything?”  
Just what he was looking for.  
“Oh, sure. I think we can probably sell these pretty easily. Well done” he answered.  
Now, there was the problem of the train and the three musketeers there.   
“Would you get rid of all of this?” he asked to Arthur.  
“The train?” Arthur asked in turn.  
“Yeah, and our friends here.”  
“What about them?”  
Dutch, fixed his eyes on Arthur’s covered face. He was sure he would have done the right thing, whichever it was.  
“I don’t know. It’s up to you. Just make sure they don’t send no folk after us” he said walking towards the girl with no name.  
“Come, Miss. Let’s take you to a warmer place” he added to her pushing her away.  
Together with all the others they walked on the half frost ground to reach the horses. Dutch could feel the bones of her shoulder under his hand: she was pretty skinny and she must have been freezing. He had to admit she was really strange, and she still hadn’t told her name.  
“What’s your name, Miss? If it’s not too much to ask” he said pulling the bandana down from his face.  
She took a little before answering, moving her eyes around and maybe considering if she could trust some complete stranger. She had to, she had no choice, and they were doing the same with trusting her.  
“Emily” she murmured.   
“I’m Dutch Van der Linde, Miss Emily, and these are my men. I must warn you, we are outlaws.”  
As soon as he said this, she turned her head with a snap to look at him. Her big dark eyes expressed all the terror she was proving.  
“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t touch a hair on your head. You see, we’re criminals, but we’re not bad men. Not when we can avoid it.”  
They had finally reached the horses and pointing to them Dutch said: “You’ll ride with Lenny.”

...

A warmer place, that was all she could think about and if the price to pay to reach it was telling them her name, she was more than willing to pay it.  
“I’m Dutch Van der Linde, Miss Emily, and these are my men” said the picnic-man pointing at the people walking around them. “I must warn you, we are outlaws.”  
She knew it! She thought looking at him with her eyes wide open.  
“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t touch a hair on your head. You see, we’re criminals, but we’re not bad men. Not when we can avoid it.”  
Weren’t they the same men who just robbed a train? How could they be criminals without being bad? It was a contradiction. She fixed her eyes on the ground as they kept walking, thinking about the nonsense that man was saying.  
“You’ll ride with Lenny.”   
Just when she lifted her gaze she understood what he was talking about. Right in front of her there were around three thousand pounds of well kept horse meat, including saddles, bits and stirrups.   
They rode horses? In 2020? They were really old style criminals those ones, but she… she had never rode a horse. She didn’t know where to start. She didn’t even like horses.   
It wasn’t something personal, but since her father told her horses were dangerous animals she had always been afraid of them. They were dangerous under all aspects, he had told her: they had big teeth and powerful jaws that could cut your fingers with just one bite; they had four strong legs which they used to kick you if you went too close to them; they were big, but they were unaware of their force and got scared pretty easily and could throw you away from their backs any moment.  
No. In no way they could have convinced her to get on one of those things.  
“Don’t you have a car?” she asked.  
Dutch looked back at her with a perplexed expression.   
“You know something less… alive?” she added nodding towards the animals.  
“Don’t worry, Lenny is an excellent rider” said Dutch.  
“It’s not him I’m worried about” she murmured taking a few steps in the direction of the boy of color.   
He was next to one of the horses, petting its neck and whispering soothing words to it.  
“Her name’s Maggie” he informed her when she reached him.  
Her eyes moved upon the strong muscular neck of that creature, then down its leg until she reached the hoof that it was nervously stomping on the ground, and then up again until she met its crazy bloody eyes that the creature pointed on her. That thing was warning her, it was telling her “if you only try to touch me, I’ll show you how hell it’s done”.   
No, she would have found another way, a bike, a moped, on foot, she didn’t care.   
Lenny raised a leg, put the foot on the stirrup and hoisted himself, sitting perfectly on the top of that dangerous killing machine.   
“Now your turn, Miss. I’ll help you” he said reaching out a hand signing her to take it.  
Emily, without moving her eyes from the boy’s face, shook her head with conviction.   
“I’ll help you, lady” said a voice from behind her back and a moment after she felt herself being lifted from the ground by two robust hands and pushed towards the horse.   
Even though the last thing she wanted was to mount on a horse, as an instinct she grabbed Lenny’s arm and sat astride on its back. They gave her no time to get used to the new sensation she was proving. Someone, who she thought to be Dutch the boss, yelled “let’s ride” and she had to clutch around Lenny’s waist not to fall back. 

...

Emily tightened the blanket around her shoulders with one hand while with the other she didn’t dare let Lenny go. She had to admit, it wasn’t such a bad experience: apart from the constant up and down it was very similar to riding a motorbike; she just had to clench her legs around the beast and her arms around the boy’s waist.   
As they kept going, she felt the temperature of the evening air drop and that was the sign that they were taking her to a higher ground, up and up in the mountains. Just now she was understanding why nobody had heard neither the gunfire nor the explosion: they were in the mountains and, even though she wasn’t very good with geography, she could still tell that the mountains covered with snow in May had to be somewhere in the North. Only, she had no idea how much North, nor how she got there.  
She lost track of time, she couldn’t tell anymore how long she had been on the back of that horse, moving her eyes from the sky to the earth, both of the same bluish white that made the landscape look all the same. The only thing that changed during the journey, and that could give her any idea of what part of the day it was, was the light: all around her darkness was falling and soon she wouldn’t be able to see the tip of her nose.  
Besides, the boredom was forcing her to focus on something else, like her frostbitten fingertips, her feet inside her soaked snickers, the smell of the ass of that horse. Yes, she hadn’t noticed that before, but that horse really stank.   
Something else that she hadn’t noticed was that they weren’t following any road, or if there was a road, it was completely overwhelmed by the snow. That was strange, too. What state was capable to neglect the safety of its citizens in such a way to leave the roads in that condition?  
“We’re almost there, Miss. We're camped a little more North, in an old mining town” said Dutch.  
Old mining town. Was he talking about one of those towns of the past which afterward developed into industrial or trade cities? Why couldn’t he just say ‘we have a hotel room in the city’? Why they had to play all that trivia game about “old mining towns” and “camps”? Was it some kind of gang slang?  
But when they slowed the horses down, that meant they had reached the “camp”, what she saw made her understand they weren’t making a wordplay: what she was looking at was a true old mining town, and as they got to the entrance, on a wooden sign almost completely hidden by the darkness, it was engraved: “Colter”.  
“You can get down, Miss” said Lenny turning to look at her as they all stopped the horses.  
Emily looked first at the boy’s face and then at the ground. It was covered with snow and jumping down she would have dipped down till her knees.   
Next to her there was another one of those strange criminals: he had an old style bowler hat, a ridiculous parted thin black mustache and he had just dismounted his horse.  
“Can you help me?” she asked reaching out a hand in his direction.  
He looked at her like she was asking him to bring her to the moon, but after a moment of obvious confusion he said “sure” and walked closer, taking her from her waist and helping her to get down gently.  
“Miss Grimshaw, we found this girl on the train, would you warm her up a little and find her a place to sleep?” she heard Dutch’s voice saying.

...

“Ah, another one?” asked Miss Grimshaw looking at the blonde skinny figure who just dismounted the horse.  
This was the second woman Dutch brought in in those last few days, without counting the O’Driscoll, who they weren’t going to feed anyway, but he still was an addition to the group.  
“She says she’s been kidnapped” answered Dutch.  
With a sigh and a gesture of her head she told him she would have provided for her, just like she had done for Mrs. Adler.  
“Come with me, Miss. Let’s get you warm” she addressed the girl.  
Rising her lantern a little, so to spread the light even farther, she observed the girl as she walked in her direction, stumbling in the high snow and tightening the blanket on her chest, under which she could still make out those unusual clothes. Together they reached the main shack, where some minutes before she had left Marston’s bedside to rush out when Mary-Beth informed her of their arrival.   
“Here” she said pushing the rickety door that let them both inside the crowded room.  
“There’s the fire, so you can get warm” she said pointing at it and closing the door again to avoid that little heat inside the room to go away.  
“Miss Jackson will bring you some dry clothes” she added putting out the fire of the lantern.  
“No” she heard the newbie saying and she turned around to look at her.  
Tilly froze in her place, with her legs still half bended in the act of standing up, hoping that the girl’s objection would have changed Miss Grimshaw’s mind, so that she didn’t have to walk out of the room and face the snow, the cold and the darkness.  
Everybody now was studying that odd figure standing in the center of the room and looking around her like she was in some kind of bad dream: she was terrified, but they couldn’t understand why.   
They had saved her, they were giving her a warm place to stay for the night and probably some food too, so why was she afraid? She should have been grateful, thought Karen frowning at her.  
“Sorry, but… what year is it?”

...

Emily kept moving her eyes around her, focusing on the long wide skirts of the women, the hats of the men and the overall look of the people around her. Her nose caught all the shades of the moldy planks of the walls, the burning wood in the fireplace and the smell of badly washed bodies.   
The clothes, the locomotive, the explosives, the horses, the old mining town, the camp. Why didn’t she think to ask it before? It seemed impossible, but at the same time it was the only possible explanation. She just had to put two and two together.  
At her question they all exchanged some puzzled looks.   
“It’s the year of our Lord 1899, what a question!” answered a male voice behind her making her turn around.  
There were four men in the room: one, who seemed to have had some kind of accident, was asleep on a cot; one, with a pair of tiny glasses and a rat face, had his nose buried in a book; one with a reddish mustache, had his dark eyes lost in the air; and the last one, an old man with a white beard which made him look like a Santa Clause wannabe, was the only one looking at her, so Emily supposed that voice belonged to him.  
“1899” she whispered analyzing the man’s face to understand if he was making fun of her. He seemed dead serious and so did everybody else in the room.   
That explained why she was there: she had made a jump in time and, unfortunately for her, she must have arrived inside that train, which brought her away from Saint Denis and right in the hands of those criminals.   
1899\. It was one hundred and twenty one years before. What a strange number, 121. She always thought time leaps happened with round numbers: 100, 200, 300. Actually, she thought time leaps only happened in the movies, sci-fi movies, like “Back to the Future”.   
Now what? She should have told them? They would have probably thought she was nuts. But how could she explain her situation? How could they help her?   
She froze: no-one could help her, because in 1899 no-one had the slight idea of how to make a jump in time. What was she thinking about! She hadn’t any idea of how to make a jump in time, either! Because it was impossible!   
She was starting to panic. She was stuck in 1899, in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of dangerous outlaws and she probably would have never go back to her home, her family and her friends. So, what was she going to do?  
Her heavy breath and her wide open eyes caught the attention of the people in the room.  
“Are you okay, honey? You want to sit down?” asked a woman with red air and an Irish accent taking a step in her direction and putting a hand on her shoulder.  
Emily moved quickly away from her when she felt her touch.   
“Sit by the fire, we’ll get you something to eat” she added.  
Eat…   
She fixed her eyes on her freckled face.  
“Fuck the fire, fuck the food and fuck you!” yelled Emily slapping her hand away.  
Now the woman’s look changed, she didn’t take those words too good, but she couldn’t care less. Emily started pacing the little space inside the room which wasn’t occupied by a table a chair or a person. She was definitely panicking and she knew she wasn’t good at controlling herself.   
She had lost everything, everything! Her job, her family, her friends, her life, her future, everything! It was all gone! What was she supposed to do? Her limbs started to feel heavy and her eyes started to fill with tears.   
“Don’t worry, you are safe in here, no-one is going to hurt you” said someone, but she didn’t focus on the person who pronounced the words.   
They couldn’t understand, no-one could understand what she was feeling in that moment. Everything was fucked up, gone to hell, destroyed, vanished from the world, forever. No. No, that couldn’t be real. It was a joke, a bad joke someone was making to piss her off, and it was working.   
“You!” she snapped pointing her finger to the face of one of the women in the room.  
“What year is it! And don’t you try telling me a lie, I want the truth” she said with a high pitched tone, the kind of voice she had when she was nervous, stressed, scared or any other moment of non-calmness.  
“We already told you, it’s 1899, so calm the hell down and don’t point that finger to me” answered the girl.  
Emily groaned with frustration and turned to look at the door. She had to get out of there, reach Saint Denis, go back home, look for her parents, look for someone who wasn’t part of that act.  
She took the blanket from her shoulders and threw it on the ground, looking at the people around her, those people who where doing her wrong for no apparent reason. Then, she took two big steps and reached out a hand to take the doorknob, but in that same moment, the door busted open. 

...

Her screams had woken him up and with the conscience the pain came back too. Who was she? Why was she acting that crazy? Why was she dressed like that?   
John made a grimace of pain when he felt a sting on his leg: he couldn’t tell what was worst, the bullet hole in his thigh or the cuts on his face. He needed more morphine, but when he tried to move his head to look at the reverend, the front door opened letting both the cold air and four more people come inside the room.   
Charles and Javier exchanged a look with the girl before heading to the back of the building. Charles took a sit next to the reverend, while Javier stretched his hands in front of the fireplace trying to catch that little relief it gave to his frozen fingers inside the gloves. Right after them, Dutch and Hosea entered the room, fixing their eyes on the troubled face of that girl.  
“Hello Miss, my name is Hosea, Hosea Matthews, they told me yours is Emily” said the man with a nod of his head and laying his hands on his hips.  
“I have to go” she said trying to move the man away to reach the doorknob again.  
“Whoa whoa! Where you want to go, Miss? Outside it’s freezing, dark and dangerous” said Dutch putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing her back. “Here you’ll be more than fine. I told you, I promised you, we’ll take you home as soon as possible” he added.  
“You don’t understand, I have to get outta here!” she exclaimed with that squeaky voice.  
Why wanted she to go away so desperately? Was she hiding something? Dutch couldn’t think about anything but the fact that, that girl was incredibly suspicious.   
“To go where? Out there you’ll freeze to death, if some hungry wolf doesn’t find you first” replied Hosea.  
His words made her eyes widen even more and while she took a step backwards she whispered a terrorized: “wolf?”.  
Was she as innocent and stupid as she looked? Or it was all an act she was making? That was the question that was buzzing in Dutch’s head and that was what he had told Hosea some minutes before, and he knew Hosea would have helped him find out.   
“Why don’t you sit for a while? Warm yourself. Did someone bring you something to eat?” asked Hosea with the sweetest voice he could fake.   
The girl shook her head with conviction.   
“You don’t understand, I can’t stay here, I have to… check something. I have to go to Saint Denis” she answered.  
“Miss, we’ll take you there as…” Dutch tried to say.  
“No, I have to go now!”  
“You need five days to reach Saint Denis from here, Miss. If you ride night and day” replied Hosea rising his voice.  
That girl was surely hiding something, otherwise she wouldn’t try to run away like that.  
“Five days” she whispered running one of her hands through her hair.  
She looked like she was about to cry. The smartest thing to do was to gain her trust to make her talk. He and Dutch exchanged an understanding look.   
“Miss, why don’t you tell us what is going on? We can help you” Hosea said using again the sweet voice.  
“You can’t help me, no-one can” she whined.  
“Is your family in danger?” asked Dutch, following Hosea’s lead.  
“No, my family is safe, I’m just never gonna be able to see them again” she answered in some kind of frustration.  
Dutch and Hosea looked at each other again. What did she mean?

...

She had no choice, it was pointless to keep it from them and she didn’t even care if they thought she was crazy.  
“I come from the future” she said plainly.  
At the beginning, she kept her eyes on the ground certain that she would hear laughs and snorts coming from the people around her, but after some seconds of complete silence, she couldn’t help looking around her, at their faces, to understand what they were thinking of her.   
The two men in front of her, Dutch and Hosea, were frowning; all the women in the room had an expression between surprise and disbelief, all but one, the one she pointed her finger at, who looked like she was about to laugh; the man on the cot had woken up and raised a little, leaning on his elbows and squinting his eyes to look at her. In the overall image, she had the eyes of everybody on her.   
“Did you run away from an asylum, dear?” laughed Santa Clause.   
She expected that. What she could say to make them believe her? Did she want to make them believe her?  
“My name is Emily Richardson. I’m born on October the 18th 1997 from Agatha and Thomas Richardson. Only child. I come from Saint Denis, the suburbs of Saint Denis, precisely, and I live in the year 2020.”  
“It can’t be. They say the world will end in the year 2000” said Santa Clause.  
“It’s all a superstition. We were told the world would end in 2012 according to a Maya prophecy, but I’m still here” she replied shrugging.   
The expressions of the people around her didn’t change, but she didn’t care. Her purpose wasn’t to make them believe her, she wanted them to let her go.  
“I know you think I’m crazy, and trust me this is crazy for me too. I’ve just lost everything, I’ve lost my entire life for something I didn’t believe to be possible.”  
She looked again at the people around her before keeping on.  
“I want to go to Saint Denis to see if it’s true. If I’m really in 1899 my house won’t be there, nor my family. I want to check for myself.”  
She didn’t wait for an answer, she took a step forward to reach the door, but she found Hosea’s hand on her way.  
“If what you say is true, what does it matter if you wait a couple of days more?” he asked.  
She fixed her eyes in his.  
“If you won’t find your house nor your family, it won’t make any difference if you get there tonight or next week. Tomorrow we’ll all leave this place, move South, and we’ll take you there.”  
She had to admit his way of talking was very persuasive and comforting, and he was right. Run outside now, in the snow and the darkness, without any idea of where to go, and the wolves he was talking about, and God knows what other creature… After all it was 1899 and things were different, if it really was 1899… And she hadn’t any clue of where she was by the way, it was definitely better to wait until morning, at least until morning, and let them accompany her… And she could have slept on it and thought that through…  
“Okay” she said in the end.   
The entire room around her seemed to sigh in relief.  
“Good. Now why don’t you wear some dry clothes and eat something hot?” asked the man called Hosea with the same paternal tone she found so soothing.   
Emily looked again at the long gowns all the women in the room were wearing. No, she wouldn’t wear something like that, they looked uncomfortable and lousy. She learned that in history books: personal hygiene in 1800’s was poor, and so was the cleanness of clothes.   
“I prefer to wear my own clothes, thank you. What do you have to eat?” she asked politely.  
Something hot would have been perfect, unless it was something disgusting they used to eat.  
“I’ll go check if Pearson still has some stew” said Mrs… Mrs… she couldn’t remember the name of the woman who brought her inside the cabin.  
She walked past Hosea and Dutch and went outside.  
“Everybody else, we wish you goodnight. Tomorrow we’ll leave this hellhole and find ourselves a new home” said Dutch before turning his back at Emily and following the woman outside, Hosea right after him.

...

“See, I told you she’s hiding something” said Dutch as soon as they closed the door behind them.  
“I don’t know, Dutch. Seems she really believes in what she’s saying” replied Hosea.  
He turned his collar up to protect his neck from the cold wind of that night. He hated that goddamn mountain, that weather had a terrible effect on his old bones.  
“Oh come on, Hosea. Don’t tell me you believe in that crap of the time travel. I thought you were smarter than that.”  
“I don’t say I believe that, but she does” he replied meaningfully.  
Dutch narrowed his eyes looking at his friend. He had always trusted his ability in understanding people: if he was saying she was delusional, she probably really was.  
“Anyway, we’ll soon find out. In the meantime we’ll tell the girls to keep an eye on her, ask her questions. You know what they say, lies have short legs, and if she’s lying she’ll probably contradict herself sooner or later.”  
Dutch nodded firmly at his words. Some footsteps made them both turn towards Miss Grimshaw walking among the snow to reach them with a steamy plate in her hands.  
“What do you think of all that nonsense, Dutch?” she asked.  
“Keep an eye on her, ask the girls to do the same, I want to know everything she does or says and we’ll find out what’s what” he answered with the tone he usually used to make people understand he would sort things out.  
Miss Grimshaw nodded briefly looking at him right in the eye to show him her support and headed back to the cabin.

...

When they finally closed the door behind them, Emily took a deep breath.   
Yes, they were right: she just had to calm down, think straight and wait a couple of days. Just like she had told herself on that train a few hours before: she had to be like that girl in the movie, calm and smart; don’t rush things, don’t make stupid mistakes, don’t panic, a rule that she had already broken, and try to find the best way to get out of that situation.   
“Do you really think we’re gonna believe all that crap you just told us?” asked the girl she had pointed her finger at, distracting her from her thoughts.  
She had clear eyes, but from the distance Emily couldn’t tell if they were blue or green, blonde hair, of which some locks were visible under the dark cloth she used to cover her head, and a rude way of addressing her that she didn’t like.   
“No, I don’t expect you to believe me, I don’t even believe I said those crazy things, but I think that’s what happened. It must be. The alternative is you’re lying and we aren’t in 1899.”  
“No, the alternative is you’re crazy, lady” said the man on the cot.  
“Or you’re the one full of shit” added the girl with the rude tone.  
Emily scoffed, shaking her head and giving her back at her to draw closer to the fireplace and stretch out her hands to warm them to the feeble burning fire, right next to the man with the ridiculous mustache.   
They didn’t believe her? Okay, it wasn’t her business. They believed she was crazy or she was lying? She didn’t care. Who were those people for her? No-one. On the contrary, they were strangers, outlaws, dangerous people, she shouldn’t even have talked to them.  
She still felt her feet inside her sneakers soaked just like the lower part of her jeans. She knew her shoes would have never dried if she didn’t took them off and put them in front of the fire, but looking at the floor covered in dirt she thought she preferred to suffer rather than catch some kind of skin irritation, putting her bare feet on it.   
“Are you all dressed in that way, in the future?” asked another girl.  
“Mary-Beth!” exclaimed the rude girl as to scold her.  
“What? If she’s lying or not, I’m curious to know why she’s dressed in that way” the girl called Mary-Beth answered in defense.  
Emily looked at her freckled face. She had to be young, maybe younger than her, she still had chubby cheeks, just like the other girl in the room, the one of color, who still hadn’t said a word and kept looking at her with wary eyes.  
“Yes, most of the people of my age dress like this. This is a hoodie” she said pointing at her chest.  
“These are jeans” she kept saying pointing at her legs.  
“Yeah, we know what jeans are. We got them” the rude girl stopped her.  
“Oh” Emily exclaimed. She had no idea they already existed. “And then snickers” she ended pointing at her feet.  
“They look odd” stated Mary-Beth.  
“And ugly. They make you look like a clown” added the rude girl.  
“Karen!”  
This time was Mary-Beth’s turn to scold her. The girl called Karen shrugged making Emily understand she didn’t care if she had offended her. But Emily didn’t care, either. She knew what kind of girl Karen was, there were plenty of people like her in the world: bitches.   
She turned again to look at the fire. Why was she making small-talk with those people?  
“So you come from the South” stated the girl of color.  
Emily moved her eyes on her, studying her pretty traits and sweet eyes that did not fit with the cold voice she had used with her.  
“Yes, I do. Is that a problem?” she asked in hostility. She couldn’t believe they were all so grumpy inside that room.  
“Usually it’s Southerners who have problems with people like me” she replied bitterly.  
Emily had no idea of what she was talking about, so she looked around at the other people in the room asking them for help. Everybody was staring at her.  
“Black people” said the man she thought to be a Native American, with a deep voice that surprised her.  
Her brain connected the two information she had received with her knowledge of history, which at least was better than her geography.   
“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t…” she stammered looking first at the man and then at the girl.  
She wasn’t used to that kind of thinking. This was a different time, with a different mindset, a worse mindset under certain aspects.  
“It wasn’t my intention to offend you. In my time we… we are…”  
Right at that moment the door opened and the woman she couldn’t remember the name of went inside carrying a steamy plate of something.   
“Oh, she’s going to eat Pearson’s mush?” asked Karen with a rhetorical mocking tone, and to it she added a look that Emily didn’t like. It was like she was saying: “you better pray your God before eating that”.  
The woman got closer to Emily, handing her the plate and the spoon that she took with a little insecurity.   
“Here, this is the best we have” she said.  
Emily looked at the three pieces of grey meat swimming in the colorless sauce together with some sad peas and asked herself, if that was their best, what idea of worst did they have?  
“Try some, you’ll feel better” the woman encouraged her before aiming again to the door.  
“I’ll go find you a settlement for the night” she added.  
“Thank you Mrs…”  
But the woman had already closed the door behind her.  
“It’s Miss Grimshaw. Don’t call her Mrs. or she gets angry” Mary-Beth warned her.  
“Thank you for the advise” Emily said reaching the table right beside the fireplace and letting the plate on it before sitting on a chair.   
She glanced again at it, taking the spoon and stirring that dirty hot water, when, under the light of the lamp above the table, she noticed both the plate and the spoon were stained and a little rusty.   
If that wasn’t going to kill her, nothing would have.

...

She wrinkled her nose in an expression of pure disgust and that sight amused Karen more than anything in the world. That girl thought herself to be smarter and better than them? She truly believed they were going to buy all that shit? Pearson’s stew was a fair punishment, at least for now.   
Some chairs away from Karen, Tilly was still thinking about what that girl had said before, how she apologized, and she had to admit, she wanted to hear what else she had to say about it. If she was crazy or lying Tilly didn’t care, she was curious about her anyway.  
“What were you saying before? About your time?” she asked.  
“Tilly! Even you?” exclaimed Karen.  
Tilly turned to look at her. She knew Karen had no patience for this kind of things, but she wanted to know all the same, so she just shrugged before looking again at the new girl.   
“I was saying… In my time, we don’t make these discriminations anymore. Black, white, man, woman, we don’t care, we’re all the same. For most of us, at least. There still are people who think they live in prehistoric times, but they are just a little part of the world population” she explained.   
Tilly couldn’t believe what she was hearing: a world where all people were the same. Nonetheless, women and men were equal! That couldn’t be, she was certainly lying, such a thing could never exist, not now, nor in the future, nor ever.  
“Right, and I am a princess ready to go to the ball and meet my Prince Charming” said Karen with strong sarcasm.  
All the people in the room didn’t move their eyes from the girl seated at the table, who now shook her head at Karen’s provocation.   
She had definitely lost it, delusional, making up things that couldn’t exist. What would be the next fantasy? Unicorns? Leprechauns? Dragons?   
“You have too much faith in the future” murmured Javier.  
He had spoken so softly he didn’t expect anybody to hear him, but the new girl did and turned on the chair to smile at him.  
“Or maybe you don’t have enough” she simply said.  
The door distracted them, opening again for the hundredth time. If they kept going in and out all the heat would go away and that night John would have frozen sleeping inside that room, or at least that was what he was complaining about in his mind.   
Miss Grimshaw came inside telling the new girl she had found a place for her in the girls cabin and at her words the newbie exchanged a look with Karen. Those two didn’t seem to get along and that was probably going to be a problem if the new girl decided to stay with them. Karen already could barely stand Miss Grimshaw and Miss O’Shea, another hostile relationship could push her on the verge of cold blooded murder, both Tilly and Mary-Beth knew that.  
Silence fell inside the room, just like they didn’t know what to talk about anymore. In fact, there wasn’t anything to talk about, anything positive at least. Those last few weeks had been tiring and a little rest and quiet was just what they needed.  
Charles noticed the new girl kept scrambling Pearson’s stew, but she didn’t bring anything to her mouth. How could he blame her: that day the stew was even worse than usual, with just that little Pearson could put in the pot. But she had to eat something, she already was so skinny the bones of her shoulders were visible under her clothes.  
She huffed and left the spoon on the table before she stood up.  
“Okay, I think I’ll go to bed” she said looking at the people in the room.  
When no-one did nothing but simply stared at her, she cleared her throat with embarrassment and spoke again.  
“Can someone show me were I should sleep?”   
“It’s the second cabin on the left when you go outside. The main room, next to Mary-Beth’s things” Miss Grimshaw explained while she was seated in front of the fire warming her legs and hands.  
“Okay” she mumbled, but still didn’t move, looking around her and rubbing her hands together.   
What did she want? Someone who held her hand? A good night kiss? Really, the more she looked at her the more Karen couldn’t help but thinking she acted too childish to be in her twenties. Or maybe she wasn’t and just looked older.  
“Does anybody, erm, need to go outside for any reason?” she asked.  
“Why, you afraid of the dark?” joked Karen.   
This was irresistible for her, she was serving her those puns on a silver platter. But maybe she had pushed too far this time because the expression on the girl’s face changed.  
“Hey, that man talked about wolves. I have no intention to go out there alone” she said angrily pointing her finger at the door.   
“Oh God… Are you really that stupid?” Karen scoffed shaking her head.  
She couldn’t believe she didn’t understood Hosea was saying those things just to keep her inside that goddamn room.   
Yes, Karen had pushed too far. With those last words, she had hurt the new girl and her eyes started to fill with tears. Tightening her lips and with a final look full of loath she run outside, slamming the door right behind her.  
“Well done, Karen” Tilly reproached her, and Karen didn’t reply.   
She knew she had made a mistake, picking on her without a solid reason, but she was so stressed in those days. The run, the cold, the hunger, the people they had lost, Sean, who she still didn’t know if he was alive or just captured. And moreover, there wasn’t a goddamn drop of liquor on those mountains!

...

Emily ran out of that smelly shack full of assholes and stopped to dry her tears among the high snow.  
Why they had to be so horrible with her? She thought she had clearly told them she had just lost everything. Her situation wasn’t good so why were they acting so cruel? Were those the kind of people that existed in 1899? So cold, disinterested, selfish and mean? Or maybe only those people were like that, because they were criminals?   
Of course, that was it! She had never heard of kind and compassionate criminals. So maybe, if she found some other people, they would have treated her differently.  
Emily raised her gaze and looked around her. She could go, run away from that place and those people. But in the dark? In the cold? On foot? Without any idea of where she was? That would be stupid and the last thing she had to do was some foolishness.   
And then, she had to admit, it was a beautiful view. The night was cold, but calm and silent. The sky was full of stars and the little light that came from the lanterns next the door of each cabin revealed the forest all around the village.   
She wasn’t used to that quiet. The city was always alive, every hour, day and night, with cars, bikes, barking dogs, crying children or yelling people who walked on the street under her window, waking her at night or disturbing her during the day.   
The door behind her opened and Mary-Beth came out.  
“Hey, how are you?” she asked.  
“Do you really care?” Emily replied, turning her back at her and crossing her arms on her chest. She was freezing again.  
“Come, I’ll show you the way” said Mary-Beth walking past her.  
In some sort of involuntarily obedience, Emily’s legs started moving and she followed the girl in the semi-darkness. They passed the first cabin, from which windows came some light and voices, and peeking for a second through the glass, she recognized Hosea’s back while seated in front of the fireplace.  
“This is it” Mary-Beth informed her when they reached the second cabin.  
It was smaller than the other two she had seen and it had no window on the front, so when they got inside, Emily was surprised to find a figure sitting in front of the fire.  
“Hi, you must be Emily” said the girl with black hair turning on the chair to look at them.   
“Emily, this is Abigail” Mary-Beth made the presentations closing again the door.   
Emily gave her a small smile and a nod of her head. Was she going to be rude with her too?  
That room was warmer that the other and this was because the fire there had bigger flames that spread both light and heat inside the small ambience. Looking around her, Emily also noticed there were no beds nor cots, just four blankets which looked a lot like sleeping-bags. Three of them seemed already used, one, which she supposed to be hers, was untouched.   
So she had to sleep on the ground? Among all the dirt and the bugs? Very good, a new terrible experience, just like she hadn’t had enough.   
A sudden rustle of cloth from her left made her turn in that direction and she noticed another tiny room just next to the main one, but so dark she couldn’t see anything on the inside.   
“Mom” she heard a very young voice calling.  
Abigail gave a quick glance at her before she stood up and walked to the other room followed by Emily’s eyes. She disappeared from her sight, fading into the darkness and right after she heard more rustle of what now she thought to be bed sheets.   
“What?” Abigail asked gently.  
“Who’s she?”  
“A new girl.”  
“What’s her name?”  
“You’ll meet her tomorrow. Go back to sleep.”  
Emily moved her eyes away from the door that leaded to the other room and took a step towards the fireplace watching the lively flames.   
That girl had a son, and from his voice he must have been very young. How could it be? When she had met those men outside she could perfectly tell they were criminals: they had mean faces, tough looks, rough manners. But what kind of gang had so many women and even a child?  
“I’m sorry for Karen’s behavior. She ain’t always like that. We’re getting through a lot right now” said Mary-Beth.   
Emily looked at her freckled face. So not everybody was like Karen, she was a special case.  
“Never mind” she replied showing the palms of her hands to the fire.   
“I think Miss Grimshaw settled you here” stated Mary-Beth pointing at the covers on the ground.  
Yes, that night was going to be tough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> I warned you, the chapters are long! Maybe too long, but I don't want to split them, I like them like this.  
> I'm definitely more comfortable with the third person, it's way easier and it gives me the possibility to change the point of view among the characters, which is great!  
> This first chapter is a little more "serious", the nexts will have more funny parts, puns, and things like this. I wanted to keep it light.  
> From what we learn about Karen during the story she seems a practical kind of woman, the opposite of Mary-Beth who is more like a dreamer, so I used that little information I got to write them.  
> I guess that's all for now. Let me know what you think about it!
> 
> See you (not too) soon!


	3. Smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, I have just realized I didn't put the description under the first chapter, so you are missing the introduction... Great.   
> *big facepalm*  
> Alright, let's make it up!
> 
> Welcome friends to my second work on Ao3!  
> As I think you have already understood this is a time travel story. Not so original, I'm aware, but, hey! who cares? I'm loving to write this!  
> It's very different from what I've written until now: I've changed the point of view, the kind of narrator, and I must say this way is easier and definitely more fun, because I can play with the points of view and everything.
> 
> Important!! I will publish every Sunday morning!
> 
> Okay, that was it for now. Enjoy the chapter!

When Emily opened her eyes, for a moment she forgot. She forgot she had made a strange kind of journey, an impossible kind of journey, a journey not in space but in time. She forgot, or her mind had wanted to forget, because of the shock it had been for her.   
Can you imagine? What would you do in her place? Just think about it: you lose everything you have, everything you are and everything you know. Wouldn’t you go crazy? Panic? It takes a great strength of both mind and body not to start crying out in desperation, and this is exactly the type of strength Emily had had that morning, when she opened her eyes and after a moment of oblivion, she realized where she was.   
Emily was strong, indeed, she just didn’t know.  
The fire in front of which she had fallen asleep was extinguished and what remained of the logs they had burned the night before had turned into a grayish ash that spread its smell inside the room.   
She stayed there, in the twilight, with her eyes open and the muffled noise of asleep breathing inside her ears. Everybody else in the room was still sleeping and that made her wondering what time it was. Was the sun up in the sky already, or not yet? She could have told if she had got up, reached the little window and pushed the curtain aside, but she didn’t want to.   
Standing up and looking outside would have confirmed what she already knew, that it hadn’t been a dream, but staying there, lying inside that dirty blanket on that dirty floor, it was like she was still in her house, in her time, with the people she loved. She was refusing to acknowledge the truth.   
When the door busted open without any notice, she jumped out of her covers and could barely restrain a yelp.   
“Rise and shine, ladies! It’s time to leave this place” said Miss Grimshaw before going away without closing the door behind her.  
“Ooh God… give me strength” she heard Karen’s voice from her right.   
Now that the door was open, Emily could see that outside the sun was rising. There was that beautiful pinky light that she loved so much, but that she could barely see because of the late hours of her job that forced her to over sleep in the morning.   
But now she could see it, so she stood up and got to the door letting the feeble sun hit her face and warm it. She smiled, weakly, but she did. She had just found a positive thing in all that mess, and she was going to hold on to it until she could.   
“Hey, what are you looking at?” asked Mary-Beth’s sleepy voice.   
“The sun” Emily simply replied.  
“Why, you don’t have it where you come from?”   
Even in a moment like that Karen was able to spoil everything. It seemed the night hadn’t improved her temper.   
Emily huffed before she headed outside to enjoy the sight. The yellow-pinky light, filtered by the branches of the trees all around the old mining town - now she could say that - hit the snow, making it glitter like it was made of diamonds. If it wasn’t for the cold, piercing her flesh and bones under her light clothes, she could have stayed all her life out there, just looking at it.  
She heard a sound of a wooden door cracking and from the cabin right next to hers Dutch came out, closing the buttons of his dark coat.  
“Ah! Good Morning to you” he said squinting his eyes against the sunlight.   
She just made a nod in his direction and then he silently went away, leaving her alone again with her view, but no much time passed before more movement behind the opened door of her cabin made her understand the peace had ended.  
“Jack!” exclaimed a voice and right after a child came out running and stopped by her side.  
Emily fixed her eyes on the boy’s face: he was looking at her with the curiosity children usually have for amenities.   
“Hi” she said.  
“Hi. Who are you?” he asked shamelessly.  
Curious and brave, that was a combination Emily loved in people and especially in children. She couldn’t stand those babies who hided their faces when she said “hi” to them. They were cute, yes, but boring.   
She opened her mouth to give him the answer he deserved, but his mother came out with a little scarf in her hands and a severe expression on her face.  
“I told you to wait. You want to catch a fever?” she scolded him, kneeling down and putting the scarf around his neck.  
“I wanted to see the new lady” he replied.  
Abigail raised her eyes on Emily and murmured a “morning” that sounded both as a greeting and an apology.   
Emily smiled again, the second time that morning. This time not genuinely, but just to show her appreciation for the child, as a sort of rule of social behavior, the kind of rule her mother taught her.   
“My name is Emily” she said to the boy as her mother closed his tiny coat.  
“I’m Jack. Why are you here?”  
“Don’t bother her. Come let’s take something to eat” Abigail said taking his hand and pulling him away.  
Abigail’s words had a strange effect to Emily’s body. The day before she had eaten nothing and the consequences of that choice were starting to be felt. She felt empty, so empty she believed she could fly away with a too strong gust of wind. Who knew if they had something else to eat rather than that disgusting thing they had served her.  
“Emily” a voice called her and turning over she recognized Mary-Beth standing on the doorstep of their cabin and showing her a…coat?  
“Wear this or you’ll freeze to death before noon” she said.  
“No, thank you. I told you, I prefer to wear my clothes” she replied trying not to sound too rude.  
She had no intention to wear any of their things: not a coat, not a hat, not even a glove. She had already slept on that filthy floor and she felt terribly in need of a shower, she wouldn’t do nothing else that could compromise her hygiene or her health.  
“But this will keep you warm. If we have to load the wagons and move we’ll stay all day out here” said Mary-Beth trying to convince her.  
Emily puffed looking first at the girl, then at the snow all around her and finally at the coat. She took a few steps towards it and studied the lousy thing more carefully. It was a long bottle-green woolen coat with some holes and unstitched points, but no dirt stains, which gave her hope.   
“Okay” she sighed taking it from Mary-Beth’s hands. “I guess… I’ll try it.”  
“It will fit you well. It’s mine and I’m not half as skinny as you are” she replied smiling at her.  
“Listen, do you have something to eat which is not that slime they gave me last night?” Emily asked wearing the coat that, just like Mary-Beth had told her, fit her perfectly.  
“Yeah, I know, Pearson’s stew is not the best” she said biting her lower lip in a sorry and thoughtful expression.  
“Come, maybe we’re lucky and they have some biscuits” she added with a sign of her hand before walking away.  
Biscuits! The idea had exited her more than she could tell and made her smile again. Emily loved everything that was sweet: vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, the taste didn’t matter, the sweeter the better.   
She followed Mary-Beth like she was her little lapdog, until they reached the other side of the little village. They walked past the cabin where she was taken the night before, but they didn’t stop. Instead, Mary-Beth kept walking and headed to a shed. Under it there were three people: Santa Clause, the dark Native and a man she hadn’t seen before.   
“Good Morning folks. Mr. Pearson, do you have some assorted biscuits?” asked Mary-Beth to the third man.  
Emily laid her eyes on him and immediately understood something: if that man was Mr. Pearson, and from what she had heard he was some sort of cook there, she could understand why his stew was that terrible. That man looked dirty: his hands were black of coal, the little hair he still had on his head were greasy, his clothes were… Emily couldn’t find an adjective for the clothes.   
“Biscuits, uh?” he said and looked at Emily with a grin on his face.  
“For the new entry here? I heard you didn’t appreciate the last meal I offered you” he added with a sudden severe look.  
Emily widened her eyes: someone had told him she hadn’t eaten the night before, and her gesture had offended him. Now what? He would have made her starve? She didn’t have to forget they were criminals, they were able to do anything.  
“Don’t scare her, Pearson. You can’t blame her if that thing of yours in uneatable” said Santa Clause with amusement.   
“And without that thing of mine you would all starve” he yelled back.  
The man with the white beard scoffed and took a sip from his bottle.  
“Anyway, no, I don’t have no biscuits. I can give you…” said Pearson looking at the cans on the table in front of him.  
“Oatcakes. That’s the most similar thing to a biscuit I have.”  
Disappointment appeared on Emily’s face, but she tried to hide it and nodded to the man who gave her the tin box.   
“What’s your name, Miss?” asked Pearson watching her as she opened the box and took one.  
“Emily” she answered giving it a bite.  
She wasn’t fond of oatcakes, even if she liked them, but at that moment they tested like the best thing in the world.  
“Well, Miss Emily, I gave you the oatcakes, so now you must do something for me” said Pearson laying a hand on the table.  
Emily froze with her mouth full of oatcake and her eyes fixed on the man’s face. What did he want from her? Some kind of payment? With money or… How did things work with those people?  
“Next time I make the stew, you have to try it. It ain’t as bad as they say it is” he added with some kind of defensive tone.  
Emily laughed and nodded to him, chewing what remained of oatcake in her mouth and thinking how stupid her thoughts had been.  
“I will” she said in the end.  
“Smith!”  
Emily turned to look at the man walking towards them. It was one of those of the train robbery, the big man with the long beard.  
“We have to move the wagons to the front” he said to the Native who nodded to him. Then, he looked in the direction of Emily and Mary-Beth.  
“Miss Grimshaw is looking for you, we’re packing” he added.  
“Come, you don’t want to hear her complaining when we don’t help” said Mary-Beth with a nod of her head and a roll of her eyes.  
Emily took another oatcake from the box before handing it back to Mr. Pearson.  
“Oh no no, keep them. My gift” he said with a wink which she had no idea how to interpret. 

...

Mary-Beth led the way, taking the new girl to the main cabin where Miss Grimshaw was giving orders to everybody, as always.  
“Miss Gaskill, you’ll show Miss Richardson how things are done here. Start taking care of the two cabins in the eastern part of town. Miss Jackson, you go with them. Not you Miss Jones, I’ve got something else for you.”  
Mary-Beth exchanged a look with Karen: she knew Miss Grimshaw didn’t want to put her and the new girl together, because of what had happened the night before.  
“We’ll load our things on the wagon first and then we’ll take care of the others” she said to Emily as they both walked among the snow where the wagons driven by Bill and Charles were being moved.   
“Where will we go?” Emily asked.  
“I have no idea. It’s the men who make decisions here” she replied.  
“Here and in the rest of the world” added Tilly behind them.  
When they reached their cabin, Abigail was already at work in the other room, picking up her things.  
“Okay, look” Mary-Beth called Emily’s attention kneeling down at the feet of her bedroll.  
“You roll it over” she said showing her how to do it, “and then you close it with the strings” she added taking the strings and lacing them up.  
“I think she knows how to close a bedroll” said Tilly as she took care of hers.  
“No, I don’t. Never used one before” replied Emily as she took the edge of her blanket and started rolling it on itself.  
“Never? Where you come from? I haven’t asked yet” asked Abigail leaning out from the other room.  
Mary-Beth looked at Emily next to her out of the corner of her eye. What would she reply? She wanted to go on with that fantasy of the time travel?   
“I-I… well… I come from Saint Denis but… in the future” she stuttered.  
Yes, she wanted to keep on with that story.  
Abigail raised her eyebrows as she looked at the serious face of the girl, withdrawing the instinct to burst out laughing. Then, she moved her eyes on Tilly and Mary-Beth who were both looking at her, but she did not understand what they were silently telling her.   
“Are you serious?” she asked in the end.  
“Absolutely” Emily replied while she kept folding the bedroll.   
“And from what time you come from exactly?” she asked again crossing her arms on her chest. That surely was a funny way to try making a fool of her.  
“2020.”  
“Ah…very funny” she scoffed before returning to the other room and pick up the rest of her things.  
“Yeah, it may seem funny, but I can assure you it’s not” said Emily.  
Tilly frowned at her. She really believed in what she was saying, so she was either crazy or… it was real.   
After the bedrolls they started loading the trunks with their clothes, the crates with their things, the chairs, the tables, the barrels they used to sit on, the boxes, everything that belonged to them and also some new things they had found in the cabins and that might be useful.   
Emily wasn’t a good worker. Not because she didn’t want to help, but because she had no strength in those little arms of hers. Everything seemed too heavy to lift, too heavy to move, too heavy too push. She didn’t complain, though. She did everything she was asked to do.  
When they finished with their cabin they moved to the one where Bill, Micah, Charles, Lenny and Javier slept, according to Miss Grimshaw’s orders.   
“Can we help?” asked Mary-Beth walking inside.  
“You can take Bill’ things” replied Javier.  
He was already at work, with Charles and Lenny. The three of them were great workers, the girls knew that: they always helped when necessary and always took care of their own things. Bill generally didn’t, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was one of the strongest there and always requested to move heavier cargos.   
Micah on the other side…

...

When she walked inside the room she found Mr. Smith, the man with the ridiculous mustache and Lenny at work, but there was also someone who was doing nothing.  
The man with the blond walrus mustache and the white hat was seated on the table dandling his feet down and polishing a long silver knife with a grayish rug.  
The first thing Emily thought to do when she saw him was point it out: why everybody was working but him? Was he special?   
Her mother taught her that everybody is supposed to do his part and for this reason she was used to clean and tide her room weekly and wash her own clothes, apart from working and bringing money in the house every month. She never helped her in the kitchen though. She was a terrible cook.   
So, let the others work while he was doing nothing wasn’t right. But then, with a quick glance at the long sharped blade he had in his hands, she thought that maybe it wasn’t the greatest moment to tell him to move his ass.   
“Okay, on my three, Charles” said the man with the ridiculous mustache and when Emily looked at him she saw him and the dark Native bended over a big trunk.   
“One, two, three.”  
The two of them lifted the thing, which looked particularly heavy, and brought it outside, all under the high and mighty gaze of the man seated on the table.  
“Come, Emily, help me with this” Tilly called her.  
She was grabbing another trunk from its handle and waiting for someone to lift the other side of it. Emily reached her and did as she was asked, but she couldn’t bear the weight of that thing for long, and after a couple of steps, she had to put it down.  
“Don’t worry, you can do it, we are not in a hurry” said Tilly to reassure her.  
Emily knew her limits, she knew she wasn’t strong, she had never been. Her muscles were weak and her bones broke easily, she had learned that when she was a kid.  
“Well, actually we are in a hurry, ladies. The law can still catch up with us. You should speed up a little” said the man on the table.   
Emily let the handle of the trunk go and lifted to look at him. He had blue insolent eyes and the curve of his lips had something wicked and mocking. He surely didn’t look like a gentleman.   
“So why don’t you help us?” she replied feeling upset by the man’s behavior.   
“I am a man, house chores do not concern me.”  
Emily scoffed. She couldn’t believe it. She had just found the worst specimen of the human kind.   
“Asshole” she just whispered before reaching the handle of that heavy thing again.  
“Hey, watch your mouth, girl.”   
Looking at him again, Emily noticed he wasn’t as angry as his voice made him seem, he was just playing the big man. Ridiculous.   
“And you watch your manners. Making a woman work hard as you do nothing isn’t very gentlemanly” she rebuked him.  
“You talk about manners? We barely know each other and you already insulted me” said the man jumping down the table and taking a step towards her.  
Emily withdrew glancing at the knife he still had in his hands, before fixing her eyes on his. He wasn’t angry, or if he was he was hiding that anger behind one of the most evil, perverted smiles she had ever seen. She was scared by that man, she couldn’t lie to herself, but at the same time he upset her so much she wanted to reply something. If hate had a face, it was the face of…  
“Leave her alone, Micah” Lenny stepped in, coming from the other room and getting by her side.  
Micah raised his hands in the air making them understand he had no bad intentions and with the same sneer that hadn’t left his face for a second, he walked out.   
“Gosh, is he always like that?” Emily asked.  
“Yeah, you better get used to him” answered Tilly.  
Get used? She had no intention to get used to anybody, she wanted to leave those people as soon as possible. It wasn’t her plan to live with a bunch of criminals, even if that was 1899 and she had no plan at all. For now.   
With Tilly they moved the trunk outside and left it to the men who lifted it without problems to load it with the others.  
Emily looked at the long line of wagons and the people going in and out from the cabins carrying every kind of object. They were like nomads: they moved their house to go wherever they wanted to and whenever it pleased them to do so. What kind of life was that? With no roots, no stability, no rest. Not a comfortable bed to sleep at night, not a possibility to have a family, have a steady job.   
Emily snorted to herself. Now she was talking silly: they were outlaws, that was their job.  
“Okay, we’ve done our part” said Mary-Beth going away.  
“Where are you going?” asked Emily.  
“Probably reading” she answered without bothering to look at her.  
Emily exchanged a look with Tilly.  
“If you still want to help go to Miss Grimshaw” she said before heading to the opposite direction of Mary-Beth.  
Did she want to help? Had she any other choice? Between sit still and freeze and working she preferred working. At least the movement could warm her more than Mary-Beth’s coat was doing.  
She started walking and at every wagon she passed she couldn’t help but staring at the couple of horses tied to each of them. Why, why horses? Among all the kind of animals that existed in the world, why horses?  
“Good Morning, Miss.”  
Emily turned around and watched the man as he walked towards her.   
“Good Morning… Hosea, right?”  
“Yes, how you doing this morning?”   
“Better, thank you. I was… helping” she said pointing a finger on the wagons around her.  
“Good, the sooner we get outta here the better. I’m not a snow lover.”  
Emily giggled, more as a formality than a real amusement, but at the same time Hosea’s words made her think of something: he seemed to be one of the men in charge in that place, so who better than him.   
“Where are we heading?” she asked.  
Hosea looked at her right in the eye before answering.  
“There’s a town. Its name’s Valentine. I think we’ll find what we’re looking for down there.”  
Valentine, she knew that place, but she had never been there. It was a commercial city. Fine business and trading companies, but nothing more. No art, no history, no tourism.  
“And, what are you looking for?” she asked intrigued.  
“Opportunities” he exclaimed going away with a smile.  
Emily frowned, but soon understood what he was talking about and what he meant by “opportunities”.   
She kept walking until she reached the main cabin from which two people were stumbling out dragging the man who the night before was laying on the cot. One was Charles Smith, the other was Abigail. She wondered what had happened to him, but asked nothing, and went inside right after they came out.   
“Oh good, you’re here. Help the reverend with those boxes. We’re almost done” said Miss Grimshaw as soon as she laid eyes on her.  
She had no idea who the reverend was and she also found odd that a gang of criminals had a man of church with them. But thinking about it, that shouldn’t have surprised her, not after Jack.   
She saw the man with the reddish mustache lifting some boxes and presumed that he had to be the reverend, so she drew closer and took a couple of the smaller ones, the only ones she could carry without tear away her arms from her body.   
Since they seemed to move a lot, couldn’t they travel a little lighter? Emily asked herself while she followed the man outside, and when she loaded the boxes on the back of the wagon and turned around, she spotted the man with the blue coat that had made her get down the train the night before, approaching with his horse. She looked at him as he made his horse slow down and dismounted it to walk towards Dutch and Hosea.   
“So, we getting out of this hellhole?” he asked.   
“We’re gonna try, weather seems stable” answered Dutch.  
“And we just robbed a Leviticus Cornwall train” Hosea added.  
The information stroke Emily as a cold shower. The train she was in. That’s what they were doing the night before, they were robbing it. And Cornwall was no mafia boss, but Leviticus Cornwall the magnate and entrepreneur who died in… 1899! And his business, that big business he had created from nothing with his own hands, was split among his faithful partners after his death.   
That was it, the confirmation that she was truly in 1899. She had learned about Cornwall at school, read his name in history books, where they said he was murdered in Annesburg by an opposer of his campaign for improving the miners working conditions. He was a good man, a man who had power and used that power to help others. Who knew if she could meet him and maybe… maybe warn him of his future, maybe…maybe save his life herself! She would have changed history!   
“Bring Hosea. I know you two like to talk about the good old days and what’s gone wrong with old Dutch.”  
The tall man with the blue coat walked right in front of her and gave her a look before he kept going. She felt a shiver run down her spine: was it the cold or that man’s eyes? He had something different from the rest of them, but she couldn’t tell what.  
“Miss, it’s time to go” said a voice from her back and turning around she saw Santa Clause looking at her with a courteous smile on his face.  
“To which wagon?” she asked.  
“Anyone. There’s still space in the second-to-last, you want to join me?”  
She looked at his sweet smile under his beard and those dark cheerful eyes and thought he was really the perfect kind of man that could play the role of Santa Clause in the stores during Christmas Holidays. He just needed a red suit and hat and a laughing kid on his knees telling him what he wished to get from him that year. This picture gave Emily the feeling that she could trust him.  
“Sure” she said with a kind smile.   
Together they walked past three wagons which were already starting to move and reached the one with the big man and Charles Smith at the driving place, while in the back she recognized Jack and the woman with the freckled face she had yelled at the night before. Santa Clause hopped in leaving his legs dangling from the back and Emily followed his example.   
As she adjusted herself better on the place she had chosen, she looked up at the last wagon right ahead of her. The man with the blue coat and Hosea were seated at the driver place and, looking for a moment at them, she gulped in embarrassment.   
She had to travel with the eyes of those two on her, and she didn’t know why, but the idea was troubling. Not much for Hosea, but for the other man, who had such a strange effect on her.  
She heard the deep voice of Charles Smith behind her yelling and the wagon started moving with a jolt. 

...

Arthur gave a strong whip of the reins and made the horses move, following the caravan and leaving that cold mountain for good. He also hoped to leave the bad luck behind, together with Blackwater, the runaway, the fear and the losses, but he knew he wouldn’t have. If Arthur had a flaw, one among the others, was that he couldn’t let the past go, even if he tried with all himself.   
“Why it took you so much to come back?” asked Hosea.   
“I had to take care of some loose ends. Be sure this Mr. Cornwall can’t track us down.”  
“I tell you, it wasn’t a good move. He is a powerful man, the kind that doesn’t let things go easily.”  
Arthur grunted. He knew Hosea was the reasonable part of the group and that he worried about them all, but he trusted Dutch with his life and the one of everybody else there.  
As the wagons kept going he exchanged a look with the girl he had found on Cornwall’s train and wondered if they had found out anything about her.  
“What about our new arrival?” he asked to Hosea.  
Hosea stared at her for some time, thinking about the mystery that girl was.  
“Miss Emily Richardson. She’s definitely an interesting type” he said.  
“Where do she come from?”  
“Saint Denis. If she speaks the truth. And then…”  
Arthur looked at Hosea. There was something odd if he used that suspense.  
“She says she comes from 2020.”  
Arthur laughed in a snort and shook his head. Bullshit.   
“She wasn’t lying” said Hosea plainly.  
“Well then, she has a wild imagination.”  
“And she looks perfectly sane.”  
“Oh come on, Hosea” Arthur complained.  
He couldn’t believe he was having that conversation. He knew Hosea was good with people, but maybe that girl was so convinced with her own follies that he couldn’t understand she was crazy, or maybe she was a very good liar, better that Hosea.   
No, that couldn’t be, he knew no better liar than Hosea. 

...

The landscape was changing. Finally they had left the mountain, the ground was plainer, the grass visible under that poor snow that still persisted, too stubborn to let the sun melt it, and the path they were following was leading them from forests to open fields and then to rivers.  
Emily had no idea of which time was it, but a dull rumbling of her stomach told her it was time to pull those oatcakes out to finish them. She opened the buttons of the bottle-green coat and unzipped her sweatshirt just what was necessary to put a hand inside and take the tin box she had hidden in there.  
Feeling the eyes of the old man on her, she turned to look at him and showed him the box.  
“You want some?” she asked.  
“Nah, thank you. Never liked them” he replied shaking his hand in denial.   
“Trust me, right now, they are the best thing I’ve ever had” she replied turning around.  
“Hey, Jack. You want some?” she asked to the kid, who stood up to put a hand inside the box and took out one of the big round cookies.   
Emily made the same gesture to the freckled woman who looked at her out of the corner of her eye in some kind of hostility.   
It was true she wasn’t planning to stay with them, but that was no reason why she had to be rude, or not make amends for her behavior.   
“I’m sorry for last night. I was a piece of shit. Oops… sorry Jack” she addressed the boy, who looked at her as he kept chewing his oatcake.   
“It’s just… I was scared, I am scared, and… when I’m scared I have the tendency to lose my mind.”  
The woman fixed her eyes on the bottom of the wagon among the boxes, carpets and bedrolls, purposefully not looking back at her.  
“Peace” said Emily shaking the oatcake box in her direction.  
The woman sighed and took one as a way to accept her apology.   
“I’m Emily. I think you got it, by now. What’s your name?”   
“Molly.”  
“You’re Irish, aren’t you? Or Scottish? I’m not good with accents.”  
“My family came from Ireland, yes.”  
She didn’t sound like she was in the mood for conversation.  
“What about you, Mister? What’s your name?” she asked to the nice grandpa.   
“You can call me Uncle, dear.”  
“Uncle?” Emily laughed. “Don’t you have a real name?”  
“No-one knows his real name” answered Hosea, rising his voice to be heard over the noise of hooves and creaking wheels.   
“And how did you call him when he was young?” Emily asked amused.  
“He’s never been young” replied Hosea.  
Emily laughed heartily. They could be criminals, but they were fun, and kind, and fair and everything else that did not match with the idea she had about criminals. None of them had tried to rape her, hurt her, threat her. There was that Micah of course, who she didn’t like, and Karen was a little… unpleasant, but the rest of them seemed normal. And then there was the fact that they were in 1899, but they didn’t look much different from the people of her time.   
Looking at the two men on the leading place of the wagon, she exchanged a look with the man with the blue coat.   
“And you?” she asked not without feeling a little embarrassed.  
“What?”  
“What’s your name?”  
“Arthur.”  
“Like King Arthur?” she said surprised.  
“Like Arthur Morgan” he replied serious.  
Emily laughed again, this time louder.  
“Like King Arthur and Morgan le Fay? Are you kidding me?”  
“Do I look like a joker to you?”  
Emily bursted out laughing. She couldn’t help it, she loved that irony, it was one of the things she found most entertaining and funny in the world. The pity was, she didn’t know many ironic people. When she finally could breathe again, she dried the tears from her eyes and took one of the oatcakes.   
“Careful back there, we’re crossing a river” said Charles Smith from the front of the wagon.  
“A river? With the wagons?” Emily asked.  
Then, she looked around and noticed the path they were following was on the edge of a ravine and there was a water sound, not the calm bubbling of a flowing river, but something more powerful like…  
“A waterfall!” she exclaimed turning around to look at it.  
“What, you never saw a waterfall?” asked Uncle.  
“Only on TV.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Never mind, it’s a long story.”  
Putting her knees on the bottom of the wagon, where she was seated a few moments before, she raised just what was necessary to look at the caravan ahead. They were crossing the river right before it bended over and crashed down the fall.   
What an experience that was going to be! She had never crossed a river, and even less a waterfall, and even lesser with a wagon.   
She sat again and waited patiently until she felt the wagon jolt and the tip of her shoes brushing against the water surface. She giggled watching the clear water ripple under her. In that moment she felt younger, she felt like a child, with her heart light and her mind empty from every kind of thought.   
She turned her head towards the waterfall and the view that opened to her eyes took her breath away. She couldn’t believe that was America, the place she was born and grown in. Where had those places been until then?   
Right there, of course, but she never had had the chance to go and see them. She had never traveled, never set a foot out of Lemoyne. School trips? Yes, the one day trips, those that didn’t cost much, those her family could afford. The old Saint Denis museums, the Civil War Memorial, Rhodes, the old Braithwaite Manor… there wasn’t much in Lemoyne after all.   
They forded the river, slowly and carefully, and reached the other side of it, when…  
“Get us out the stream” she heard Hosea saying.  
The wagon she was in slowed down until Charles Smith made it stop completely.   
“You gotta keep us moving, but calm” added Hosea as he signaled Mr. Arthur to get out of the water.  
Their wagon was moving with a strange wobble and as soon as they got out of the river it bended on one side with a loud terrible noise.   
“Ahh shit!” sweared Mr. Morgan.  
“What happened?” asked Emily.   
“Ahh I broke the goddamn wheel!” complained Mr. Morgan.  
Emily looked at him as he got down the wagon and asked herself why he was so grumpy.  
“Is he always this angry?” she asked to Uncle.   
“Oh, you have no idea” he replied with a chuckle.  
“Alright, let’s get it fixed” said Hosea with much more optimism than Arthur.  
“What’s going on?” asked another voice and turning around she noticed one of the men that was following the caravan at horseback had come back to check what had happened. It was the man with the ridiculous mustache and bowler hat.  
“They broke the wheel” she answered.  
“You need help?” he asked.  
“I reckon we can handle it” she heard Hosea saying.  
Without thinking, she jumped down the wagon. Why had she done it? She was curious, about how they would have fixed the wheel and about that angry criminal with the fairytale name. Charles Smith had left the wagon too and walked past her to go help them.  
“See you later” said Uncle and when she turned to look at him, the wagon had just started to move away.  
She waved at him and then exchanged a look with the man on the horse who nodded to her and hit the spurs to follow the wagon which in so little time was already so far away from her.   
“Alright Charles, you and me hold the thing up while you try and put the wheel back on, Arthur” said Hosea.  
“Can I help?” Emily asked as she reached the back of the broken wagon.  
“No” answered Arthur making the wheel roll on the ground.   
“You sure you’re still strong enough to hold up a wagon, Hosea?” he asked then, lifting the wheel from the ground and placing it where she belonged.  
So, that’s how they fixed wheels in 1899, placing them back. Much easier than change a car tire.   
“Shut up” said Hosea.  
“I’m just saying.”  
“Well, say less.”  
That little teasing between them made Emily chuckle.  
When the wheel broke, some crates fell on the ground with an empty barrel and a carpet too, which had rolled a little bit away, so she walked in its direction to pick it up.  
“See, you ain’t so useless after all” Morgan joked.  
Hosea laughed before answering “not quite”.   
She turned around and handed the carpet roll to Charles Smith who loaded it on the wagon. Then, she bended and took one of the crates, but when she tried to pass it to Hosea, she saw the man was looking up, his attention caught by something else.  
She looked up too, bringing a hand to her forehead to cover her eyes from the direct light of the sun, and spotted three figures at horseback looking down at them, and they looked like…  
“Natives?” she asked.  
“What do you think?” asked Morgan.  
“If they wanted trouble we wouldn’t have seen ‘em” replied Charles Smith.  
“Poor bastards… we really screwed them over down here. Pardon my French, Miss” said Hosea.  
Emily looked at him and smiled.  
“Yeah, you should hear my French” she joked and looked again at the three Natives.  
“What happened?” asked Arthur.  
Emily turned to look at him in disbelief.  
“What, you lived it and you have no idea of what happened?” she asked.  
“You do?” he asked back.  
“We better go, let’s not push our luck, we’ll talk later” said Hosea walking to the front of the wagon.  
Mr. Morgan did the same, while Charles Smith climbed on the back and then turned around to reach out a hand that Emily took to lift herself on it. She and Mr. Charles sat one opposite to the other and she had been lucky enough to sit on a rolled carpet.  
“Not too far now. Stay on this trail. We’ll follow the river then cut left inland” said Hosea. “So, you know what happened” he stated then turning around to look at her.  
“Of course I do. Everybody does. It’s one of the bloodiest chapters in history.”  
From the looks they gave her, she could tell they were expecting her to say something more.  
“Anyway, they took their lands, stole everything they had, and moved them away, not to mention the massacres of the wars.”  
“Thank goodness those have ended” replied Hosea.  
“Nothing has ended. The abuses against the Natives will be carried on until the first half of the 21st century.”  
“And how can you make such a statement?” asked Hosea narrowing his eyes to look at her carefully.  
“I think I’ve made that part clear.”  
Mr. Morgan scoffed.  
“What, that you come from the future?” he asked skeptically.  
Emily sighed as an answer. She would have never convinced them of that.   
“You are a Native, right?” she asked to Charles Smith.  
“By mother. My father was a colored man.”  
“Wow that’s unusual. You must be proud of it” she replied with a surprised smile.  
“Not really.”  
“Why not? Such a rare happening, different cultures, different stories… it’s beautiful.”“Not everybody thinks the same.”  
“W-what…”  
She had to remember to herself where she was, when she was, to understand what he meant.   
“What about your parents? Where are they?” she asked.  
“I don’t know. The army came and took my mother when I was little. I left my father’s house when I was thirteen.”  
“Why?”  
“He was a sad man, especially after what happened to my mother, and the alcohol had a mean hold on him.”  
Disappeared mother, drunk father, that man had a terrible story, and she could feel his sadness through that deep voice he had. Without thinking, she did what she thought to be the right thing and leaned forward to hug him.  
“Oh, I’m so sorry” she murmured.  
“W-what are you doing?” he asked.  
Emily let him go and frowned at him looking at his bewildered face.  
“Erm… showing my sympathy?” she answered.  
“Why?” he replied defensive.  
Emily kept looking at him and then moved her eyes on Hosea, who had a surprised expression just like Charles Smith. And she couldn’t say the same of Mr. Morgan, because he was driving, but she reckoned he was asking himself what the hell was she doing too.   
“Because that’s what people do? Your story is terrible, you must have suffered a lot and I want you to know that I’m here if you want to talk.”  
He kept looking at her like she was speaking Chinese. So it was true what they said, in the past people were truly cold and unsympathetic. Probably no-one had ever told him something like that.  
“So now you’ll go around and hold people to show them your sympathy?” asked Mr. Morgan sarcastic.   
Emily laughed at his provocation.   
“No, not everybody. Only those who deserve it. What about you Arthur Morgan? What’s your story?”  
“We found young Arthur here when he was like what… fifteen?” Hosea asked him.  
“Yeah, more or less” Arthur replied.  
“A wilder delinquent you never did see. But he learned fast” added Hosea.  
“So you didn’t have any family?” Emily asked.  
“Orphan, they both died when I was very young.”  
“Oh my…” she whispered.  
Was there anyone who had had a normal life? A normal childhood? A happy childhood? She asked herself as a great pity raised in her for those people. She wasn’t surprised they all became criminals, in someway they didn’t have a choice. And what about the girls? What kind of life did they have? Mary-Beth, Tilly, Abigail? What was their story? If the men had been so unfortunate, she could only imagine what it had to be for the women, because we all know for women is always worse.  
“So, what now? You’re gonna hold me too?” asked Mr. Morgan with that sarcastic tone.  
“No” she said and immediately looked away when he turned his head to glance at her. “Not anymore” she added.

...

Arthur laughed focusing again on the road. She was something, with that childish enthusiasm for waterfalls and that sympathy for people with sad stories and that claim of her provenience from the future. She was the strangest creature he had ever met and the same was thinking Charles, who couldn’t move his eyes from her since she had touched him. No-one had ever showed that interest for his origin, that compassion for his past, that kindness for him, and especially a white girl. He wasn’t used to that.   
“What about your story, Miss Emily?” asked Hosea who wasn’t less stroke by her strange behavior.   
“There’s nothing interesting to say about me, I’m afraid. I’m born in Saint Denis and there I lived my whole life with my mom and dad. I’d never thought to say that but…compared to you I feel extremely lucky. I have a family and friends and a job… well, I had a family, friends and a job.”  
Charles noticed her own words had caused something inside her and her eyes suddenly lost the light. She fixed them on the distance, watching everything and nothing at the same time. Why did he have the impression that girl was telling the truth? All that story seemed absurd, but the change of her expression was genuine.   
“Listen, I don’t know what to think of it” said Hosea as he understood that too.  
“I know, you can’t believe me” she said brushing her tears away.  
“And I don’t expect you to. I just don’t know what to do. Even if I went to Saint Denis, there would be nothing for me there. I have no place, I have no-one, I have nothing”  
“Yes, you do. You have us” replied Hosea.  
She looked at him with those big dark eyes that shined in the sun like they produced their own light.  
“We’ll take care of you, like we’ve been taking care of each other in the last twenty years.”  
“But… but you are…”  
“Outlaws? Yes. Bad people? Also probably yes. But we are also a family.”  
The girl smiled and dried the last tears from her eyes, which all of a sudden had recovered that light that made her look younger and innocent and pure, a purity of spirit Hosea hadn’t seen in many people, and it needed protection from that cruel world they lived in. 

...

Her own words had crushed inside her like an airplane, but the more Hosea talked to her the better she felt. That man had a way of talking that could calm a ferocious bear, and she just couldn’t believe he was a criminal. He was so sweet, kind, and he was caring about her, when no-one did. Maybe she didn’t have to leave them, maybe she could stay with them just what was necessary to understand what she wanted to do with her forced new life.   
“You know you’re gonna have to teach me how to do everything, right? I come from a time when we have a lot of things which you have not” she said.  
“Like what?” asked Charles Smith.   
She looked around her trying to think about something.  
“Like, erm, I don’t know, like cars. Wagons without horses” she said.  
“We have them. People already posses them in the East” replied Hosea.  
“Really? What about, erm, phones?”  
“You mean telephones? You can find it at the Sheriff’s office, they let you use it if you ask.”  
Emily widened her eyes in surprise, wishing she had a better knowledge of inventions of the 1800’s.   
“And showers?” she asked.  
It came to her mind and for a moment she wished they had showers too, so she could have one as soon as they got to Valentine.  
“Showers?” asked Hosea.  
“Yes, when the water comes from above, from the shower head” she explained.  
“Like the rain?” asked Charles.  
“No, I-I… l-like…”   
She had no idea how to make them understand.  
“How do you wash?” she asked. Maybe starting from their point of view, it would have been easier.  
“In the bathtub?” said Mr. Morgan.  
“Okay, a bathtub, great, now think about water, okay? Coming from a pipe which falls from above, and you wash under it, and then the water flaws inside the bathtub and in the pipes again.”  
She felt like an idiot, with her arm stretched up in the air making the water-that-comes-from-the-shower sign.   
“Why should water come from above if you can fill the bathtub?” asked Arthur.  
“Because this way is cleaner. When you have a bath you basically swim in your own filth, is unhygienic” Emily explained.  
The three of them chuckled and snorted. Emily did the same, shaking her head and thinking it was for the best if they didn’t talk about modern inventions anymore.  
“You know, I’m almost tempted to believe you really come from the future, I don’t think you can make up something like showers” said Mr. Arthur.  
“Yeah, maybe I’ll patent it, so I’ll become rich” she joked.  
A movement from her left made her jerk around, and what she saw made her heart jump and a rush of excitement ran in her veins.  
“A deer!” she yelled.  
“Look, look, a deer!” she said pointing at the animal jumping up and down until it reached the river.  
Hearing that shrieking, the deer stopped to look at her with its ears stretched up.  
“And if you don’t stop yelling that’s the first and last you’ll ever see” Morgan said annoyed.  
Emily pouted at his reproach.  
“Sorry, I’ve never seen one” she murmured looking down.   
“Never saw a waterfall, never saw a deer. You are a real city girl” said Arthur with some sort of mocking in his voice.  
“Yes, I am, And I’m proud of it.”  
Mr. Morgan scoffed.  
“What? I am. Cities are great, always alive, always full of people, opportunities…”  
“Overwhelming chaos” said Hosea.  
“Arrogant sons of bitches” added Arthur.  
“Filthy air” ended Charles Smith.  
“Yeah, well… it has its flaws” she admitted in the end.  
A glimpse of the sun light reflected on the water of the flat river and caught her attention on the spectacular landscape. She inhaled deeply and the smell of grass and trees and flowers entered in her nostrils, having a sort of lulling effect on her mind.  
“Yeah, cities are great. But I think I prefer the country.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it?  
> There is something else that I'm doing this time. I've noticed that people who write Rdr2 fan fiction generally tend to write strong independent characters, not only psychologically but also physically, and I've done it too in my previous work. So I've decided to make the opposite for this story, writing someone who is weak and scared and whose sparkling personality makes the others believe she's a little dumb sometimes. 
> 
> Have you ever noticed the thing of Arthur's name? I've become aware of it as I thought for a reaction Emily could have about it, and I couldn't believe I had never seen the irony on it before. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! For questions and doubts I'm always here and again, stupid me for not putting the introduction in the first chapter... *second facepalm*
> 
> See you next week!


	4. You'll get used to it

On the road to Valentine, Emily found more than her love for the country, she found out she had new friends, some new kind of family, an uncommon family, a crazy family, a family of outlaws. She didn’t see it in these terms, of course, but we all know how it works with the Van der Linde gang: once you start getting attached, you’ll never let them go.   
Anyway, at that moment, she couldn’t believe her own feelings. She had alway despised criminals: she believed laws were made for a reason, which is being followed, she hated thieves because she thought they took away the product of honest people’s work, not to mention murderers, who were nothing more than the worst kind of thieves, because they stole our most precious thing, our life.   
So, how could she feel that way? She felt pity for them, for their stories, she felt emotionally attached to Hosea, who talked to her like a father, even better than her real father actually, she had to admit shamefully, because she had never had that kind of talk with him and he had never made her feel that way. In her house, her mother was the backbone of the family.  
And then there was that Mr. Arthur, with his sarcasm and “tough and rough”way to do things, and handsome, again she had to admit that too. And Mary-Beth, she looked like the perfect friend, when she would open up a little - she probably was a little shy. And little Jack, she liked that kid too.   
So, on the road to Valentine, Emily found more than her love for the country, she found out that people are people, no matter what they’ve done in their life, and that good and evil sometimes overlap.  
“What’s this place called again?” asked Arthur.   
“Horseshoe Overlook” answered Hosea.  
“It’s a good place to lie low?”  
“It’ll do for now. And how long do you think Dutch is going to lie low?”  
“W-wait, I though you said we were going to Valentine” Emily stepped in.  
“It’s a place near Valentine, yes” replied Hosea.  
“But… we won’t stay in the city?”  
“How do you think we can make twenty people stay in the city?” asked Mr. Morgan.  
“And we have to hide, the law is still looking for us, we can’t risk to catch too much attention” added Hosea.  
“I don’t understand, why are they looking for you?” she asked.  
“On the left here, Arthur. Up the hill” Hosea said pointing at the left path at the crossroad. Then, he sighed and made a little pause before he explained her their situation.   
We all know about the ferry job in Blackwater, how it all went to hell and how Dutch killed an innocent girl “in a bad way”, how Javier tells it. And we know how they had to flee from Blackwater because of the Pinkertons, and how some of them didn’t make it.  
Emily remained silent after Hosea told her all this. She was thinking not about the fact that they had stolen a lot of money from that ferry, but about the amount of people who died for that theft. That girl on the ferry, that Davey and that Jenny in the mountains, not to mention all the people they had to shoot to get out of Blackwater. And from the way Hosea was talking about it, she could tell he wasn’t proud of how things had gone.  
“Why you do that? Why are you criminals? Can’t you just… change your life?” she asked.  
“That’s what we’re trying to do. Make enough money so we can buy some land out in the West and start a new life” answered Hosea.  
“But why you have to steal it, can’t you take a loan from the bank or something like that?”  
Hosea and Arthur chuckled.  
“You’ll soon learn Dutch isn’t fond of the American government, and the bankers, and the industrialists, and everybody else who has just a little power on this land.”  
Emily couldn’t understand what Hosea was telling her, she couldn’t understand what Dutch really wanted. He wanted a new life? He wanted to be a criminal? He wanted to fight the government? He reminded her of Robin Hood, but instead of taking from the rich to give to the poor, he took from everybody to give to his family.   
After the climb up the hill, they found themselves in a plain ground where the path was surrounded by trees, and the more they followed it the thicker the trees became, until Arthur pulled the reins and made the wagon stop.  
“There you are brother.”  
Emily raised her head and looked at the man who had spoken, the one with the parted mustache and bowler hat, laying his back on a big rock at the edge of the road.  
“Head in there and follow the track for a bit” he said pointing to a little side path among the trees.  
Then, he reached the back of the wagon and hopped in.  
“Okay, let’s go” he said with a gesture of his hand.  
Emily looked at him and smiled. From close up, she could perfectly tell he came from some place in the South, like Colombia, or Mexico, or maybe Brazil. He also had a strange accent when he spoke, so she was pretty sure he wasn’t from there.  
“Where do you come from, Mr…?”  
“Javier, Escuella. Mexico.”  
“Oh, I would’ve said something like Cuba. Do you like in here?”  
“Yeah, I do. It’s a good country.”  
“Are you gonna ask everybody about their lives?” said Mr. Morgan with annoyance.  
Again, Emily couldn’t understand why he had to be so grumpy. She was just trying to have a conversation, know better the people she was gonna spent some time with.  
“Why do you care, Mr. Morgan?” she laughed.  
“I’m just afraid you’ll start make me insistent and annoying questions” he replied.  
“Don’t worry, from now on I’ll avoid you like the plague” she joked.  
Both him and Hosea chuckled.  
“So, any trouble getting in here, Javier?” asked the latter.  
“No, it went well. This is a good spot” he replied.  
“Excellent. I think this will work for us, for now anyway.”  
“Were are we going to sleep?” asked Emily as the thought of another night on the ground was starting to worry her.  
“We got tents. It’s not like sleeping in the best hotel in town, I know, but it’s not the worst, either. You’ll get used to it” answered Hosea.  
“Tents like… like camping?”  
In that moment she understood what Dutch meant by “camp” when they had rescued her the day before. And yes, her fear had just been confirmed: she had to sleep on the ground, again.   
“See for yourself. Here we are, home sweet home” Hosea said and at the same time the path into the woods ended and a clearing opened at their sight.  
Mr. Arthur made the wagon stop again and Emily took a deep breath before standing up.   
Javier was waiting for her, with his hand ready to be taken to help her getting down. It was the most courteous thing anybody had ever done for her and she looked at him with surprise for a moment before taking it.  
“You weren’t wrong, Hosea. This place is perfect!” she heard the loud and thundering voice of Dutch saying.  
“I hope so” replied Hosea.  
“Hey, were have you been?”   
She had just jumped down the wagon and she turned around to meet Mary-Beth’s eyes: she had removed the heavy coat and headscarf and she was wearing a pink shirt on a mauve long skirt.   
Actually, the weather there was way better, the temperature warmer, and Emily didn’t felt anymore in need to wear that bottle-green woolen coat.  
“I stayed behind with Hosea. You’ve already settled the camp” she stated looking at the tents around her.  
“There’s still a lot to do. Come, I’ll show you around” said Mary-Beth taking one of the crates from the wagon and leading the way.

...

They walked through the tents, passing right in front of Abigail, who was bringing another carpet inside of hers.  
“Hi Abigail!” Emily exclaimed.   
Abigail answered with a smile before entering her tent, where she opened and left the carpet among the others on the ground next to John, sleeping on the cot thanks to the reverend’s morphine.   
“We’ll sleep here” said Mary-Beth showing her their place, with the four bedrolls on the two big carpets.   
“What, here?” she heard Emily ask as she left the crate under the tent.  
“Yes.”  
“We don’t have a tent?”  
Mary-Beth looked at her and then pointed at the large piece of cloth above their heads.  
“This is our tent.”  
“I mean a real tent. Like that one” Emily said pointing at John’s tent.  
“Only Dutch and John have those.”  
“Why?”  
“Because they are… they are…”  
Emily and Mary-Beth looked at each other in the eye, exchanging a meaningful look. They both knew it wasn’t exactly right to leave the women sleep on the ground and out in the open air while they had all the privacy and comfortable cots they wished, but there were rules.  
“So there is some kind of hierarchy here, like… they are on the top and all of us down here?”  
“No, Dutch is the leader, and then Hosea, Arthur and John, then the men, then Miss Grimshaw and then us.”  
“So it’s a patriarchal totalitarianism?”  
Mary-Beth frowned, not understanding what she wanted to say with those big words.  
“Never mind. There is a place I can wash?” Emily asked taking off the coat she had given her.  
“If you want to have a bath, we have to go to town, or if you aren’t squeamish you can wash in the stream, but you won’t have much privacy there.”  
Emily opened her mouth in astonishment and Mary-Beth was pretty sure she was about to say something outraged, but right at that moment Dutch called them all.  
“Come it’s time for the speech” she said to the new girl.  
“The speech?”   
“I know that things have been tough, but we are safe now and we are far too poor” was saying Dutch as they both reached his tent quickly, where the rest of the group had gathered.  
The speech was the same as always: we all need to work, no more passengers, bring some food, share what you got with the gang, be careful, don’t catch too much attention.  
They had almost finished with the usual bunch of encouraging words when Mary-Beth felt the sleeve of her shirt pulled and turning her head she saw Emily looking at her with an expression she couldn’t make out.  
As the speech ended and the people scattered, going back to their works, trying to make that place livable, she turned to face the new girl.  
“What?” she asked.  
“I have to pee.”

...

She hadn’t drunk a single drop of water, and the extreme cold of the mountain had forced her body to keep all on the inside, but when she removed that coat it was like every single muscle relaxed and it came altogether. She needed a bathroom.   
That speech was nothing more that a series of rules they apparently had to follow: go around, make some money - even though she had no idea how to do that - put some in the box, bring some food…   
What the heck did “bring some food” mean? Couldn’t they go to the market and just buy things like all normal people do? It was 1899, so she supposed markets and stores already existed.   
She couldn’t restrain herself anymore, so as soon as they finished with that dictatorial shit, Emily pulled Mary-Beth’s sleeve.  
“What?”  
“I have to pee.”  
“Well then, go in the woods.”  
Emily widened her eyes and for a moment she was about to laugh, but then she understood Mary-Beth wasn’t joking.  
“But…what about a toilet? Don’t you…” but she stopped halfway of her sentence.  
How were toilets in 1899? Did they have them?  
“If you have to go, go in the woods” repeated Mary-Beth.  
“What about toilet paper?”  
Mary-Beth raised her eyebrows and nodded.   
“Yes, come” she said and leaded her back to her tent, their tent, how she had to call it from now on.   
She went to the back of the wagon right behind the place they were going to sleep and opened a box from which she took a roll of paper very similar to the one they used in 2020, just a little different in color and consistency.  
“Here, don’t use too much, this thing is expensive” said Mary-Beth as Emily took a couple of sheets.  
“Are you sure you have no toilets?” she asked still full of hope.   
“I have no idea what that means.”  
Emily looked at her freckled face trying to find another word to make her understand, when it suddenly came to her mind.  
“Restrooms” she exclaimed with a snap of her fingers.  
“Restrooms?” asked a voice from behind her.  
She turned around and met Karen’s bewildered expression.  
“Where men go to make their things?”  
“And women don’t?” asked Emily.  
“I’m afraid not. Only men can use them” Mary-Beth informed her.  
“And we don’t have one, you can find it…”  
“In town. Yes, I got it” Emily said with a puff.  
There was one reason why she never went camping with her friends: lack of bathrooms.  
Sleeping on the ground for a couple of days, she could endure that. Cooking things on a campfire, that could be fun. Bugs and wild animals, unless it was something extremely disgusting like cockroaches, it was fine. But bathrooms… No place to wash properly, no private space to do her things, she couldn’t stand that, and yet there she was.  
“I can’t believe I just did that” she murmured to herself walking out of the woods.  
As the shadow casted by the trees ended and she stepped in the sunlight, Emily looked at the camp in front of her standing against the endless background of the Heartlands. She had heard of that place, one of the most beautiful of all the States, but she didn’t expect it to be like that, and the tents they had settled fitted perfectly with the general view. The rurality and simplicity of that sight made her feel like she was in some kind of movie, and made her curious to see how those people lived their everyday life.   
She started wandering around: she exchanged a smile with Javier Escuella, asked to Mary-Beth what she was reading, peeked inside Dutch’s tent, the most articulate and comfortable of all the tents, which sight made her a little angry, then she stopped for a while to watch Charles Smith chopping the wood for the campfire, and in the end she approached a table, where Uncle and the big man with the long brown beard were seated.  
“Hello” she said sitting next to them on one of the upside-down barrels, and noticing they both had a bottle of what seemed to be beer in their hands, she thought it was a little too early for drinking.  
“Hello, dear. Oh! I got something for you” chuckled Uncle standing up and leaving.  
“W-what…” she stuttered moving her eyes from Uncle’s back stumbling away to the other man, who shrugged.   
“Isn’t it a little too early for that?” she asked pointing at his bottle.  
“Mind your business!”  
He had a growling angry voice that made her jump on her seat when he snapped in that way.  
“Hey, I was just saying. Sorry if I offended you.”  
“Your the one who says you come from the future, right?”  
Emily sighed and looked away.  
“Yes” she murmured.   
“So you know how things will go? Like, what will become of the West?”  
Emily fixed her eyes on the man’s face, asking herself what were his intentions, if he was just playing with her, or if the beer he was drinking had already gone way up to his head.   
“I mean” he whispered leaning forward on the table and as a reflex Emily did the same so that now their faces were really close and she could smell the alcohol in his breath.   
“Will it stay untamed?”  
Emily considered what she had to reply to him: the truth, the hard truth, or a lie?  
“We’ll we have the chance to live free?”  
He looked like he was truly believing in the fact that she came from the future.   
“For the first question: no, the West will be tamed in the end. For the second, I don’t know what to tell you, I’m not a fortune teller.”  
The man withdrew from her, looking at her with wary eyes and the same did she, still not sure if he was drunk or anything else.  
“Here, my dear.”  
Emily turned to Uncle as he sat down again.  
“You forgot these on the wagon this morning” he said giving her the oatcakes tin box.“What was Mr. Williamson here telling you?”  
“I’m not sure” she replied narrowing her eyes to look at the big man, while he took a sip from his bottle.  
“Anyway, thank you for these, Uncle” she said standing up.  
“No big deal, no big deal at all.”  
Emily headed to what she supposed to be the camp kitchen since Mr. Pearson the cook was there with a big pot on a table putting things inside it. She smiled as he noticed her, but she didn’t stop to talk and opened the tin box to take an oatcake from it.   
Chewing happily for the recover of her source of nourishment she kept walking around the kitchen until she found something that took her smile away. There was a man, someone who she had never seen before, tied to a tree like he was some kind of prisoner. She walked closer, pushed both by the curiosity and the pity for that figure.  
“Please, please, water” he whispered without looking at her and she immediately turned around looking left and right and asking herself where could she find water.  
Then, she stopped, thinking about the reason why that man was tied, why he was a prisoner. Maybe he was a bad man, a dangerous man, and the fact that she was in a camp of criminals could only make her wonder how dangerous he had to be, if they were so scared by him that they had to tie him up. Emily decided that she didn’t want to find out and taking another bite from her oatcake she walked away as fast as she could.

...

It so happened that she walked right in front of him, while he was standing there smoking his cigar and enjoying the landscape. He looked right at her face and immediately understood something was troubling her.  
“Miss” he called.  
She was taken by surprise, and stopped abruptly to look back at him.  
“Dutch” she said with a nod, but she didn’t abandon that upset expression.  
“Is everything alright? What do you think?” he asked pointing at the camp around him as he took some steps in her direction.  
She seemed to think carefully about what she was about to say. Then, she frowned and walked towards him, pointing at him the hand with the half eaten oatcake in it.  
“There are some things I really don’t like” she said menacingly, but her sweet and innocent face made her look funny instead of scary.  
“Ah, is that so?” he said as he felt his lips opening in an involuntary smile.   
“Yes. First of all, why don’t women have tents and cots like you do? I don’t think it is right. We need our privacy and I have no intention to sleep under the rain, when it will come.”  
He brought the cigar on his lips and inhaled as the girl kept looking at him with that furrowed brow he found so hilarious.   
“Go on” he encouraged her.  
“Second, I’ve heard your speech before and… what is all this dictatorial thing that you give orders and we follow. I thought we came all equal to the world.”  
Dutch inhaled again from his cigar, looking at the girl and pondering her words. If it had been someone else, anybody else, he would have kicked him on the belly and told him to think carefully on how he was talking to him, but there was something in the way that girl talked, even if she was insulting him, that made him think she needed a chance to understand how things worked.  
“How do you think we can move easily and quickly if everybody has every kind of furnishing with them?” he asked.  
“Well…”  
“And we are all equal, but this doesn’t mean we need anarchy. Camp rules exist to make possible this living together and I make sure everybody follows the rules.”  
“I-I…”  
“Everybody here takes care of everybody. Otherwise, just think what burden on me if I had to take care of all these people, me alone, can you imagine?”  
She opened her mouth, but said nothing. Yes, she just had to see things from his perspective. She looked like a smart girl, and with time she would have understood.  
“Okay, now I get the hierarchy thing” she said moving her eyes away in embarrassment.  
“But I still don’t catch the cot thing. If you want to travel lightly, why don’t you sleep on carpets too?”  
“I think that after twenty years that I’ve been taking care of these people, I deserved a little comfort.”  
“What about Arthur?”  
“Arthur is the one who works harder here and one of the older members.”  
“And John? Whoever he is?”  
“John sleeps on the ground, the cot is for Abigail and Jack.”  
“Oh…”  
She looked away and again some embarrassment showed on her face.  
“Now, if you’re done with your questioning…” he said turning around to go in his tent again.  
“I’m sorry. I’ve… you have a nice camp, I really like it” she added before running away.  
Dutch chuckled watching the skinny figure disappearing from his sight.

...

What the fuck had she done? Was that the way to address people? Accuse them without knowing how things worked? Her mother had spent all her life teaching her manners and she had just broke at least one hundred rules. She felt stupid, she felt embarrassed and she had to run away, but first she had to make amends for her behavior.  
“I’m sorry. I’ve… you have a nice camp, I really like it.”  
She knew she sounded ridiculous and without waiting for an answer, she just went away. Dutch had all the good reasons to do what he did, to have a bed, to make the rules…  
“Hey.”She recognized the voice that called her and turned to look at Mr. Morgan seated on the cot under what had to be his tent. He had changed his clothes too: he was waring a blue shirt with a light brown jacket.   
“Next time you speak with him, I recommend you some respect.”  
That was the final blow: she had also been reproached. Her mother would have been extremely disappointed. None the less, it was Arthur who was reproaching her, so the embarrassment was double.  
“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to, I’ve made a mistake, I will make up to him I promise” she mumbled staring at the ground.  
“You’re lucky he likes you.”  
Emily finally found the courage to rise her head.  
“Like me?”  
“If he didn’t he wouldn’t let you go like that, not after what you said.”  
“Sorry, I don’t understand. Were you eavesdropping?”  
Mr. Morgan chuckled and stood up.  
“You’ll find out the camp is little and full of people who live very close to each other.”  
Emily puffed as she looked at her privacy slowly going away. Thanks goodness she wasn’t a very shy person. Thinking about privacy, she remembered she still had to take a shower, or a bath, in that case, and to do so she had to go to Valentine.  
“Listen, do you know how can I reach town?” she asked.  
“What town? Valentine?”  
“Yes, I have to go there.”  
“Why?”  
“Because… I have to… wash.”  
Arthur chuckled again shaking his head.  
“What? I have to” she complained.  
“You can take a horse, but my advise is you wait until morning. Sun’s about to set. It’s not safe to move at night for a woman.”  
As he said this, he walked away leaving her there with her thoughts. A horse? In the morning? The road wasn’t safe?   
Emily shook her head and decided to delay that matter to the next morning since apparently the sun was already setting, even tough she had no idea of what time it was. She was used to check the time on her phone, so she didn’t have a watch. Maybe it was better if she got one, but that was another matter she would think about the next morning. For now, all that she could do was keep wandering and eat oatcakes.  
Jack caught her attention as she walked past him. He was standing almost at the edge of the cliff looking at the distant landscape and for a second Emily thought he looked more like an old man than a child. Kids of that age are always hyperactive, they never stop moving, never stop talking, never stop pissing adults off. He was quiet, he didn’t run, he was curious but polite, so either his mother had done a great job or he was an unusual kid.   
“Hey, Jack.”“Hey” he mumbled.  
“Can I ask you something?”  
“Ah-ah.”  
“How old are you?”   
“Four.”“Really?”  
The hight was right, the voice too, but he seemed older, on the inside.  
“W-what do you usually do in camp?” she asked intrigued.  
“I… go around, I play and I read some book with Momma, or Uncle Hosea.”  
“Uh… and, you play alone?”  
“Yes. I am a kid, no-one wants to play with me.”  
He said those words with no complaining nor self-pity, but just as a matter of fact, and that stroke Emily so much that she opened her mouth in amazement.  
“W-well… I want to play with you” she said in the end.  
“Really?” he asked looking at her.   
“Yes, honest. When I was your age I used to play hopscotch and I loved it. Would you like to play that?”  
“What is it?”  
Emily widened her eyes.  
“You don’t know hopscotch?”  
The boy shook his head.  
“Come on then, I have to teach you!”  
Find a small rock to toss on the ground was easy, but how to make the squares on the dirt? Emily had to summon all her skills to find a solution. She asked Mr. Pearson to lend her some of the old boxes, assuring him she would have bought him some new at the first occasion she had, and broke them to pieces so to have 10 perfect, or almost, squares. Then, she took a piece of coal from the fire, not without burning her fingers a little, and drew the numbers on the planks before she positioned them on the ground. Finally, she explained the game to Jack and they started playing. From now and then she had to take the little piece of coal to draw the numbers again, but all things considered it wasn’t much different from playing in a courtyard.  
“Hey, what re you doing?” asked Abigail coming closer.  
“We’re playing hopscotch, Momma!”  
“What is it?”  
“Here, you want to play?” asked Emily handing her the rock.  
“I-I don’t think…”  
“Oh come on! It’s fun.”  
“Play, Momma!”

...

Abigail sighed and shook her head thinking that was going to be the stupidest thing she had ever done. She hadn’t played any games in years, it was childish, it was embarrassing.  
“What should I do?” she asked as Emily brought her in front of the planks with the numbers on them.  
“You throw the rock and then you jump only with one foot on each of the numbers saying them out loud until you reach the rock. Then, you pick it up and do the same as you come back” Emily explained.  
“I have to jump with one foot?”  
“Only one.”  
“What if I lose the balance?”  
“You lose.”“It seems stupid.”  
“No, Momma. It’s fun!”  
Abigail looked at her son’s face. For the first time after many days, he was just like every child should be, he was happy. It was his joy that pushed her to do that and she played that stupid game, and the more she played, the more her son was happy and the more she was happy.   
As Jack kept jumping and laughing Abigail exchanged a look with Emily: she was grateful for what she was doing for Jack, but at the same time she couldn’t help but ask herself why was she doing it. She didn’t know them and playing with Jack wasn’t anyone’s priority there, so why should have a stranger done that?  
Their laughs were catching the attention of almost everybody in camp and Tilly and Mary-Beth were watching them from the distance, wondering why that jumping was so fun. Hosea, on the other side, was amused by the scene and satisfied by his choice of bringing that girl. He knew she had had a good effect on the people, but he didn’t have any idea of how much. Lenny smiled as he walked past them and he would have continued to walk if the new girl hadn’t stopped him.  
“Hi. Listen, can I ask you for a favor?” she said.   
“Sure.”  
“Tomorrow, would you take me to Valentine?”  
“Of course. What do you have to do there?” he asked in turn.  
She suddenly seemed embarrassed, so Lenny thought it had to be something personal, something intimate, something womanly, and inquire further wouldn’t be polite.   
“Sorry, I shouldn’t ask. I’ll take you there” he said in the end.  
“Thank you. You want to try?” she asked pointing at the planks with the numbers.  
“I-I… I don’t think it’d be…”  
He had no idea of how to say it without been rude. He didn’t want to play, he couldn’t, or everybody would have mocked him till the rest of his life. He was a man after all, not a boy, nor a girl.  
Thanks the Lord, Miss Grimshaw came to save him from the embarrassment, showing up with her furrowed brow and her pursed lips that made everybody tremble in camp.   
“What are you doing, exactly?” she yelled at them all.  
Lenny, lowered his head and run away like a beaten dog while the two girls looked at her with surprise. As he understood how thinks were about to end, Hosea stood up from his chair and reached the women.  
“We were… playing” answered Emily.  
“Playing? With all the work we need to do, you play?” Miss Grimshaw scolded her.  
“I-I’m sorry, Miss Grimshaw, I had no idea…”  
“Maybe we can give her some time, Susan” Hosea stepped in.  
As the man reached them, Abigail new they were safe from Grimshaw’s rage, at least for that time.  
“It’s her first day, she still has to understand what’s what” he added when she looked at him with severity.  
“Since when being new means no work?” she asked sharply.  
“I’ll work, I promise. I’ll work and I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”  
They all looked at the new girl as she pronounced those words like she was swearing an oath on her life. Miss Grimshaw frowned. No girl had ever behaved in that way, generally they sweared under their breath, tell her to go to hell, cry, yell, but beg in that way when she had done anything wrong, that was new. So, she was either very innocent or very smart and she was trying to get in good with her.   
“Good. There are already enough people idling around” she said going away.

...

That was the second reproach she had received. She was learning how things worked with those people in the hard way, by making mistakes. She hated to make mistakes and she hated reproaches.   
She still couldn’t understand how things worked there. It seemed they had all the freedom they could possibly want, and the same time, no freedom to do what they wanted. That place was strange.   
“Miss Grimshaw can be rough sometimes, but only because she cares, and she’s never unfair. You’ll get used to her” said Hosea.  
They kept telling her that she would have got used to this or to that, but she still wasn’t sure she wanted to stay. Without knowing how to reply, Emily nodded to him and right after he walked away.  
“I’m hungry, Momma” said Jack.  
“Come, let’s see if we can find something to eat. You coming?” Abigail asked her.  
Emily nodded again and followed the two of them towards the kitchen and Mr. Pearson’s large figure.  
“We don’t have much left, if someone doesn’t find us some money or food very soon we’ll starve” complained Abigail while they walked.   
Emily jerked her head to look at her profile, wondering if her worries were solid or just an exaggeration due to her motherhood. How could their situation be so dramatic? How could be so difficult to find some money to buy food? She had no idea and at the same time she felt the need to do something for that girl and her son. Emily had a big heart, the passion for justice and rightness, and a soft spot for kids.   
Mr. Pearson told them they needed to wait one more hour for the famous stew, and when Jack complained again Emily went to her tent, taking what remained of her oatcakes, and gave them to him. Then, she asked Mr. Pearson for some water and he pointed to her a bucket with a ladle inside. She took some to wash her hands from the coal and then asked for a cup or a glass or something else she could use to drink it.  
“Use the ladle” he said.  
Emily looked at the thing, imagining how everybody in camp had to use it to drink that water, and her instinct was to put it down and leave, but if she had done so, she would have died of dehydration. She hadn’t touched water for almost two days now. So, she summoned all her courage and drank from it. The water didn’t taste like water, it tasted like mud and steel, but she needed it.   
Mr. Morgan was right, the sunset arrived quickly and soon she found herself on the edge of the cliff to admire the sky and all its shades. At first she thought about sitting right there where the land ended, dangling her legs down, but then she thought that was too dangerous, in case the ground had collapsed, so she opted for a big rock a little bit away from the edge. She perched on it and just spent some time in complete silence.  
“Food! The source of life! Come and take a little!”  
Mr. Pearson’s voice echoed among the tents and reached her ears. She left the rock, while the sky was starting to turn dark, and walked towards the big pot where a small crowd had gathered with plates in their hands.   
Emily stared at them for a while, as one by one they took a couple of ladles from the pot. It was one of those big cauldrons she had seen only in the “Harry Potter” movies and she had never thought to see one in real life. Even less she had thought to eat something that came from one of them. They were a little old stile, those criminals, even for being in 1899. Emily was sure there had to be another way of cooking than putting a cauldron on the fire like a bunch of witches from the Medieval Age.   
Deep in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Mr. Pearson coming by her side with a plate in his hands. He tapped her on her shoulder and handed it over.  
“Here, try and let me know” he said.  
She moved her eyes from the plate to his face, wondering why that man insisted so much in making her try his food. She didn’t know Pearson was proud of his stew, even though he was aware he wasn’t the greatest cook in the world, but prepare it made him feel useful and it was his way of taking care of those people.  
“It ain’t perfect yet” he said as Emily took a spoon of it.  
“Usually I put more inside, but I lack everything, I have no carrots, no onions, I barely had the potatoes. I need more supplies, someone who comes with me to buy them…”  
“I need to go to Valentine tomorrow” she replied hopefully. Now she had more that one reason to go.  
“…and more money” added Pearson.  
Again, that statement made something inside her tremble. She felt sorry and couldn’t understand why it was so difficult to make some money. They just had to work, she was used to work, and it was 1899, find a job had to be far easier than in 2020.   
“Anyway, go on. Try” the man encouraged her nodding to the plate.  
Emily blew some air on the spoonful of dirty water which this time had a slight reddish color and then slowly slurped it. She had never tasted something like that. It was poor of taste and at the same time it was like there was too much, it lacked of salt and anything else that could soften the bitterness of it, but it wasn’t as uneatable as the aspect could suggest.  
“It needs seasoning, but it’s not bad” she said.  
“Ah! See? Never trust what this bunch of wretched tell you” he replied walking away with satisfaction.  
Looking for a place to eat, Emily spotted some people in the distance, sitting all together around the campfire with plates in their hands, and slowly walked in their direction. When she almost got there, she was surprised in finding out that they were only men, and she asked herself if that was another rule of the camp-life.   
“Excuse me” she began, catching the attention of the people seated there. “Can I sit here or it’s just for men?”  
They all looked at her like she was asking how many hairs they had on their heads.  
“Of course you can sit here, we live in a free country” said Uncle with his usual playful tone.  
His answer made her feel stupid for thinking there was some kind of gender division, but it also made her feel like she had some kind of new freedom. She couldn’t play with Jack, she couldn’t wash, she couldn’t complain for the lack of beds, she couldn’t hug people, she couldn’t ask questions, but at least she could sit where she wanted. Now she just had to choose where to sit.   
There were two boxes, a big log and a chair. The chair was occupied by Uncle, one of the boxes by Charles Smith, on the log there was Lenny, and Javier Escuella was seated on the ground. Without thinking twice, she decided that Lenny was the least awkward choice.   
“So, you like Pearson’s cooking?” asked Uncle.  
“No, but I expected worst.”  
“There’s only one way to go when you reach the bottom” said Lenny making her giggle.  
“About tomorrow…” she started to tell the boy, as she thought about the supplies Pearson had asked and the pact they had made to go to Valentine together, but she couldn’t complete her sentence, because Mr. Morgan interrupted them all to sit next to Charles Smith.  
“You were saying?” asked Lenny.  
“About tomorrow, Pearson asked for some supplies, but it seems there is no money to buy them and I was wondering, how… how do you make money?”  
Her words caused some hilarity among the men.   
“We are criminals, my dear. If we need money we take it” answered Uncle.  
“Yes, but… where? And How? Because, I wanted to buy him something, but I have nothing of my own.”“We rob banks, stagecoaches, we take things and sell them back” Lenny explained.   
“And which… which of these can you do tomorrow?”  
Again her words made the people around the fire smile and chuckle.   
“It’s not that easy. Before every job we need to study the place, find the right moment, choose the right people to do it. And even before that, we need to actually find something” replied Charles Smith.  
Emily had just found out that being a criminal was definitely more difficult than she had expected. So, if crime wasn’t the answer for their needs…  
“What about a honest job? What can I find in Valentine? I am a waitress… I mean, I was a waitress, back home. I could work in a coffeehouse.”  
“I think the word you’re looking for is saloon” said Uncle. “But they don’t allow women to work as waitresses there, the best you can aspire to is… be a working girl” added Lenny.  
Emily huffed as she was starting to understand how difficult was to be a woman in 1899.   
“Okay, I guess I’ll find something, one way or another” she said in the end.  
“Maybe there’s no need” said Charles Smith.  
“What do you mean?” asked Emily.  
“At the first lights, I’ll go hunt something, so you can bring it to town and sell it. With that money you’ll be able to buy supplies for Pearson.”  
“Wow, that’s great! Thank you, Charles” she said with a wide smile.  
“We all need to eat” he replied with a shrug.  
“You know you can’t go to town with them clothes, right? Everybody will look at you” said Mr. Arthur.  
“I’m not afraid of people’s stares” Emily replied.  
“But we can’t risk to catch too much attention. They become suspicious, follow you back here, find us, we’ll all hang by the end of the week.”  
Yes, being a criminal was definitely more difficult than she expected. She thought they could go wherever they wanted, take whatever they wanted, scared by nothing and no-one. It wasn’t like that apparently.   
The heart of the matter was: she had to change her clothes. How? Without money? And what kind of clothes then? Those large uncomfortable gowns women were forced to wear?  
“You’ll borrow one of the girls’ dresses.”

...

Arthur’s sentence wasn’t a question, and even less a request, it was an order, and he could perfectly tell that she hadn’t liked it. She had a cute furrowed brow that made her look like some kind of angry tender creature.  
“I don’t want to wear other people’s clothes” she said.   
“For Lord’s sake, girl…”  
“I know! I know you can’t risk. I got it.”  
She was stubborn and that was going to be a problem, unless he put her on the corner.  
“You’ll change your clothes or you won’t go.”  
“What?”  
“You hear me.”“You two, can you give it a rest?” complained Charles.  
He couldn’t understand why Arthur had to act like an idiot sometimes. He was a good man, deep inside, but on his bad days he was impossible.  
“Why don’t you just change your shirt and shoes?” said Uncle.  
“That’s right. Women with pants are uncommon, but not too odd. People won’t mind them, but those” added Lenny pointing at the girl’s shoes, “you can’t wear them.”  
She was cornered, she couldn’t say no, and with a surrender sigh, in the end, she nodded.  
“And I’m coming with you.”  
Arthur wasn’t sure why he had said that, he just felt it was the right thing to do, go with them. They knew there were O’Driscolls in the surroundings, probably Pinkertons, and surely people who were more than willing to pick on a couple of kids.   
Lenny and the girl exchanged a look.   
“We ain’t children, Arthur” said Lenny.  
“I know.”“We’re just going shopping.”  
“I know, but towns are always dangerous, especially for a girl and a colored boy alone.”  
Lenny knew he was right, and for this reason he said nothing more.   
As Arthur looked at the girl, who hadn’t complained this time, he saw she had a strange look. Was she… happy that he was going with them? He couldn’t tell, but the thought that she was pleased of his presence, suddenly made him feel uncomfortable.

...

He wanted to go with them, to protect them. That man had been able to both annoy her and make her blush within two minutes. He was a terrible pain in the ass, childish under certain aspects, but also sweet and caring. How could he be all these things together?   
Emily was confused. She had a chaos of feelings inside. She liked him, but she hated him because he had imposed on her like that. She didn’t like when people told her what to do, and especially when they limited her freedom without a solid reason.  
In the end, they had convinced her to change her clothes. She didn’t like that either, but apparently she had to: they were scared to be found by the law and she didn’t want to put them all in danger.   
She finished her meal in silence, without looking at anybody in the face - silences tended to make her feel uncomfortable, she always felt the need to fill the void with something - then, she stood up to return the plate to the kitchen. She walked slowly among the tents, admiring the dark camp and how the insects attracted by the light gathered around the lamps hanged above the tents. When she reached the kitchen, Mr. Pearson wasn’t there, and, without knowing what to do with her plate, she just left it on the table and did as to go away.   
“You have to wash it.”  
She turned around to look at Abigail, who had whispered those words to her. She was under an open tent, just like the one under which she was going to sleep that night, laying on her side with Jack asleep beside her.   
“In the basin” she added pointing at a little steel bowl on the side table of the kitchen.  
Emily nodded and did as she was asked to, putting the plate and spoon in the water.   
“Where’s the soap?” she asked turning her head to look at Abigail.  
She frowned and shook her head as to say her request was too pretentious, and Emily immediately regretted the fact she had eaten from that plate and spoon. Who knew how many times they had been used, by how many people, and never been washed properly afterwards.  
Repressing the instinct of throwing up, she approached Abigail and the sleeping kid as soon as she finished.  
“Thank you, for today. I’ve never seen him laughing like that.”  
“Don’t mention it. I was having fun too, if I must be honest.”“When I’m with him… I don’t know, it’s like I don’t have any idea of what to do, how to talk to him, and his father is useless.”  
“I thought you two slept in the tent with him?”  
“Not for now, and not until he’ll recover.”“What happened to him?”   
“Attacked, by wolves. Ah… he’s an idiot.”  
Emily gulped: that man had been half eaten by wolves and Karen had made fun of her because she was afraid to go out alone, back in the mountains, and called her stupid? Trying not to think too much about the night before, she shook her head and focused again on Abigail. There was something she couldn’t understand: that man was her husband, so why did she talk about him in that way?  
“Your husband… what’s his name?”  
“John.”“Why it seems you hate him?”  
Abigail smiled.  
“I don’t hate him, he’s just… he has a son, he has to take his responsibility.”  
“He doesn’t?”  
Abigail shook her head.  
“It’s… complicated.”  
Emily wanted to ask something more, but she didn’t want to appear nosy, and besides her mother had always told her not to interfere in couple’s business. But there was something she was curious about that she didn’t have had the chance to ask.  
“Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”  
“Twenty-two.”  
Emily dropped her jaw.  
“We are the same age!”  
“Really? You look younger.”  
“Why would you say that?”  
“I don’t know. Today, while you were playing with Jack… No twenty-two year old woman would do that.”  
“You did that” Emily laughed.  
“And I felt like an idiot” Abigail laughed in turn.  
“Why? You were playing with your son.”  
“It was childish.”  
“Just because you’re a mother it doesn’t mean you’re old already. You’re a girl, just like me. You’re still young. There’s still a lot you can do.”  
“Well, no-one had ever put it this way. I-I… what should I do?”  
Emily laughed.  
“I’ve never thought I would’ve said something like this, but… Abigail, I’ll teach you how to have fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> In every chapter I try to focus on someone new and this time it was Abigail. If you think about it a twenty-two years girl from today acts very different from one from 1899: me for example, I know I'm an adult, but I still feel like a child inside. So I wanted to focus on this difference which for me is fascinating.
> 
> While I was thinking about a game Emily could play with Jack, I remembered one from my childhood, I looked on internet and found out you also have it in other cultures! And you call it in a very strange name, Hopscotch (for us in Italy is "The Bell Game", don't ask me why, I have no idea) so I decided to use it.
> 
> About toilet paper: I've made my researches. It's not accurate of course, but it already existed and it was sold in rolls, just like today. And you have no idea about the great amount of things we already had in 1899 which, for obvious reasons, are not present in the game. Like Coca Cola! They already had Coca Cola! It was created nine or seven years before, I can't remember now.
> 
> Anyway, I should talk less.
> 
> See you next week!


	5. City girl, country life

“Are you sure about this?” asked Emily as Mary-Beth and Tilly helped her with the boots.  
“Yeah, don’t worry. See? They fit you perfectly” answered Mary-Beth pulling the laces.  
She had lend her her black boots, while Tilly had given her her light blue shirt. They had found out they had the same size.   
Emily felt like an idiot, she felt ridiculous, she couldn’t wait to wear something new, something more normal, but she was aware that wasn’t going to be possible. How could it be that in 1899 women still dressed in that way? She thought that puffed sleeves and lacework were already outdated, but apparently not. Besides, the idea of that shirt on her skin was making her shiver, and even though both Tilly and Mary-Beth had assured her it was clean and unused, it took a little to convince her to wear it.  
“What is this?” asked Mary-Beth when Emily removed her hoodie and t-shirt so that she was wearing only her bra.  
“Don’t you have it?” she asked in turn.  
They both shook their heads.  
“And how do you hold your breasts up?”  
“Why you need to hold them up? Are you afraid they’d fall?” asked Karen’s sarcastic voice.  
She shouldn’t have been there, Emily didn’t want her there, and the feeling was mutual, but they needed someone who checked no-one would come close as she was changing her clothes, and no-one was better than Karen for that kind of job.  
“So you wear nothing?” asked Emily.  
“Not usually. Society women wear corsets. Miss O’Shea’s got one” answered Mary-Beth.  
“Who’s Miss O’Shea?”  
“The redhead with the princess attitude” replied Tilly.  
“Oh, you mean Molly. Yeah, I’ve met her.”  
“So you already call her by her name. You’ll be great friends, no doubt” said Karen.  
Emily huffed and rolled her eyes.  
“So, this… bra, you all wear it in the future?” asked Mary-Beth.  
Karen scoffed.  
“Yes. Every woman has one, or more than one.”  
“When were they invented? Or, when will they be invented?”  
“I have no idea. I thought in the middle 1800’s, but it seems not.”  
“No, still too early apparently.”Emily liked talking with Mary-Beth. Among the girls she was the most open-minded and seemed not to question her provenience from the future. Talk with her was easy. Karen didn’t believe her one bit, but Emily didn’t expect less, while Tilly was still skeptic, but maybe not impossible to convince.  
“I wish I could come with you” said Mary-Beth with disappointment.  
“Why don’t you? You can advise me on clothes” replied Emily with a new flush of excitement.   
“I can’t. Miss Grimshaw will get angry.”  
“But… I don’t understand. Is she some kind of camp tyrant? You all keep telling me how horrible she is.”  
“Because she is” said Karen.  
“No, she’s not. Not the way you make her sound” Tilly addressed her.  
“And you have your freedom. She can’t force you to stay here” added Emily as she wore Tilly’s shirt.  
“Oh, yes she can” murmured Mary-Beth.  
Emily frowned at those words.   
“Well then… I’ll ask her. Kindly” she said.  
“Kindness don’t work with Grimshaw” chuckled Karen.  
“We’ll sneak out, then.”  
“You can try, but when she’ll find out and hit you, remember my words” Karen advised her.  
“Hit me?”  
“It wouldn’t be the first time” added Tilly.  
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. From the way they were describing her, this woman seemed a monster.   
“Hey hey, where you think you’re going?” Emily heard Karen saying with a menacing voice.  
“We need to go. Is she ready?” asked Lenny.  
“Yes, I’m coming” Emily said.  
Then, she turned to look at Mary-Beth’s disappointed face again. She wanted to go with her and Emily wanted it too, even if that meant risking Miss Grimshaw’s wrath.  
“Come with me. I’ll take all the responsibility” Emily assured her and took her by her hand as she walked around the wagon and reached Lenny.  
“She’s coming too” she said to the boy.  
“Alright, let’s go.”They walked to the other side of camp from where their tent was and from the distance Emily spotted Mr. Arthur tiding a couple of horses to a wagon very similar to the one she was on the day before, maybe exactly the same.   
“Come quick, before she sees us” Emily whispered to Mary-Beth.   
“Morning, ladies. You joining us?” Mr. Morgan asked to Mary-Beth.  
“Yes, I want her to come. She’ll be my advisor” replied Emily.  
“Does Miss Grimshaw know?”  
The two girls exchanged a look.  
“Okay, hop on. Quick” whispered Mr. Arthur, walking fast towards the front of the wagon.  
Emily smiled at Mary-Beth: they had his complicity. The two of them climbed on the back and sat one facing the other, right next to the big deer Charles Smith had hunted that morning. That would have made them earn a couple of dollars and with that little they had been able to pick up around camp, it should have been enough to buy supplies and provide food for more than twenty people.  
Arthur and Lenny took the leading places and they started to move, passing through the trees that covered the clearing with the camp and reaching the path, all without talking. Fearing a travel full of an embarrassing silence, Emily knew she had to find a topic of conversation and thinking about Mary-Beth and what she had understood about her in that couple of days, she thought that books would be a good start.   
“So, I’ve seen you read a lot. What kind of books do you like?” she asked.  
“Well, mostly novels about female heroines and their adventures” Mary-Beth replied with some uneasiness, just like she was ashamed of that.  
“Oh, so you’re the type who loves romantic stories. In my time you’d probably love Twilight.”  
“What is it?”  
“A love story between a girl and a vampire.”  
Mary-Beth’s eyes widened.  
“Vampires? You mean those monsters who suck people’s blood?”  
“Actually, in the book the vampires are handsome.”  
“Oh for God’s sake” Emily heard Mr. Morgan complain, but she pretended she didn’t.  
“Yes. You would definitely adore it. But maybe it’s better if we talk about something you’d now. What about erm… Jane Austen, have you read something of hers?”  
Mary-Beth shook her head.  
“Oh you must, she’s great. What about… the Bronte sisters?”  
Again, Mary-Beth had no idea.  
“Well, I guess my first present to you will be a book.”  
“Why would you buy me a present?”  
Emily frowned. She thought Mary-Beth had already understood what kind of relationship she wanted to built with her, but apparently she had not.  
“Because… we’re friends. I mean, I want to be friend with you.”  
“But you don’t know me.”  
“That’s why I want to be friend with you, to know you.”  
Mr. Morgan chuckled again and looking at him for a second Emily saw him shaking his head. Again, she tried not to mind him.  
“So, what do you like to do, besides reading?”  
Mary-Beth seemed suddenly uncomfortable, just like she had asked her an impossible question.  
“I-I don’t know.”  
“Come on, there must be something. I like music, for example. What do you like?”  
“I-I… I write, from time to time.”  
“Hey that’s great! Do you write love adventures?”  
“M-more or less.”  
“And do you think you’ll publish them someday?”  
“N-no, I don’t think so.”“Why?”  
“Well, Karen always says my dream of becoming a writer is stupid and I…”  
“Why would she say something like that?”  
“I think you’ll soon find out Karen is a little too… practical sometimes” said Lenny from the front.  
“But, isn’t she your friend?” Emily asked to Mary-Beth.  
“Of course, that’s why she says these things, to save me from some delusion. At least, that’s what she tells me”  
“I understand being down to earth is important, but you don’t have to give up on your dream, Mary-Beth. Dreams are important, they give us hope.”  
“Oh please!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur from the front.  
Emily looked again at his back, annoyed by his constant complaining. If he didn’t like the things she was saying, he could have said it to her face, not make grimaces behind her back like children do.   
“Why it gives me the impression you don’t like what I’m saying, Mr. Morgan?” she asked.  
“Because I don’t. It’s all bullshit.”  
“It’s not bullshit, it’s my opinion.”  
“Well then, your opinion is bullshit. And you Mary-Beth, don’t let her put them stupid ideas in your mind.”  
“I’m not putting any idea in her mind, and she’s not a child, she’s a woman, she perfectly knows how to think by herself and decide what is bullshit and what’s not.”  
“I’m just saying writing is no job. It’s just a way to spend time.”  
“Like you do, right Arthur? Don’t you have a little journal of your own?” asked Mary-Beth.  
When Emily looked at her, she saw she had a little crooked smile on her face and they exchanged a complicity look. Sweet Mary-Beth had an evil side after all, and Emily liked it.  
“Ah is that so? You scribble on a journal like a thirteen year old girl, Mr. Morgan?” Emily asked with a mellifluous tone.  
“I just keep note of the important events, that’s all” he replied, but his voice betrayed some embarrassment, he’d got defensive.  
“And the drawings are part of the important events, too?” asked Mary-Beth creeping in like a treacherous snake.   
“So, you truly are a thirteen year old girl with her little secret diary. Any more embarrassing things I should know about you?” joked Emily.  
“At least I’m not the one who tells stories about blood sucking people!”  
“You should listen to yourselves! I thought to be the youngest here, but it seems we have two children Mary-Beth!” laughed Lenny.   
“Hey, I’m not the one who started it!”  
“Shut up, Arthur.”

...

Silence fell as Arthur felt ashamed for being called child by someone way younger than him. He whipped the horses and made them cross the train trails: they were close to town. Soon they would have found civilization! What a thrill…  
“What about you Lenny? What do you like to do?” asked the new girl.  
Arthur grunted, but soon tried to hide it with a cough. He didn’t want to sound as childish as they blamed him to be.  
“I truly don’t know” replied Lenny.  
“You don’t know how you spend time in camp?” asked the girl.  
“Most of the time I spend trying to teach Sean how to read” he giggled.  
Him and Arthur looked at each other and then they looked away as a veil of sadness fell on them all.  
“Isn’t Sean one of those captured after Blackwater?” asked Emily.  
Mary-Beth nodded and for some time they all stayed quiet.  
Even though Lenny didn’t show it a lot, Sean’ absence was painful for him, he liked him and he missed him and the fact that they didn’t know where he was or if he was alive, made everything worse. He tried to focus the attention on something else.  
“What are we going to do in Valentine?” he asked to Arthur.  
“Just what we are supposed to. Go to the general store, buy supplies and come back right away.”  
“We can’t go back so soon. I need to do something” said the new girl.  
“What is it?” asked Arthur, but he already new the answer, she had told him the day before.  
“I need to find some kind of job, something that could help us gain some money. And then I have to buy some clothes, so that I don’t have to borrow other people things. And then… I have to take a bath, I really do.”  
“We’re going to stay all day” joked Lenny.   
“No, we are not. We’ll split up, so we’ll take care of more things at a time” said Arthur, who had no intention to spend all day in town.  
“I’ll go with Emily for the clothes and the bath” said Mary-Beth smiling at her.  
Even if at the beginning she wanted to go with them to Valentine only to keep an eye on her, just like Miss Grimshaw had told her to do, she couldn’t deny Emily was funny and smart and sweet, everything that could make her a really good friend, and Mary-Beth knew how much she wanted a good friend.  
Valentine was nothing but mud, sheep, and probably morons, just like Hosea had told them. As he led the wagon across the slimy street, Arthur looked around, studying the people faces, the buildings, the kind of movements that town had, and for a moment he doubted they were going to actually find something in that place, some opportunities. He stopped the wagon right in front of the general store so that it would be easier for them to load the supplies on the back.  
“Alright folks, let’s get to work” he said jumping down.  
“Ooh shit!” he heard the new girl’s voice saying and walking around the wagon he found her standing there with her feet among the mud and a disgusted face.  
“What?” he asked.  
She raised her eyes to look at him with the same angry expression he had seen on her the night before, with those thick blonde eyebrows curled on her big sparkling eyes.  
“I’m covered in mud!” she squeaked.  
She really wasn’t, there were a couple of mud drops on her legs, but nothing more, she had no idea of what the sentence “covered in mud” meant, and this annoyed Arthur, making him think how silly that girl was.   
“Come, as you said you have to buy some new, right?” he said taking her arm and pushing her towards the general store entrance. 

...

The four of them entered the room, leaving behind the stink of sheep shit and the fucking street covered in muck. Emily expected a city, but what she found herself in was a bloody farm with horse droppings at every corner, and she had lost immediately all her excitement about seeing the famous Valentine.   
“Hello, how can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.  
“Okay, you take care of the list” said Arthur handing a piece of paper to Lenny. “I’ll go sell that deer. You two think about the clothes thing” he added to Emily and Mary-Beth.  
As Mr. Morgan gave the orders, Emily looked around the room observing how in 1899 stores were completely different from the supermarkets she was used to. There were carrots next to cheese, coffee next to hair pomade, canned peaches next to corned beef, and then hunting baits, fishing baits, ammunitions… it was a mess.  
“Clothes? In here?” she asked with perplexity. Didn’t they have clothes shops in 1899?  
“Upstairs” Mary-Beth replied.  
“Oh, okay.”  
As he heard them talking about clothes, the man behind the counter went to the other room and some seconds after a woman with blonde hair made her appearance, telling the two girls to follow her. They went up a narrow staircase and inside another room, smaller than the one downstairs, with a sort of big wardrobe that took the entire wall.   
“Here, Miss. Tell me what you want and I’ll take it for you” said the woman giving her a book with surprisingly thin pages.  
On them there were tiny drawings of different clothing all separated by their kind: jackets and coats, shirt and blouses, skirts and trousers, and finally accessories. She spent some time to choose the right ones and when she was done, she pointed them out to the woman.  
“Miss, you know that you’re asking me to give you men’s trousers, don’t you?” she asked looking and talking to her like she was an idiot.  
“Yes, I’m aware of it, but I couldn’t find any pants for women.”  
“That’s because women…” she stopped, glancing at her legs for a second before a polite smile broadened on her lips.  
“I’ll take you the smallest size we have” she said in the end and started looking for what she had asked inside the big wardrobe.  
Emily and Mary-Beth exchanged a meaningful look. With all the times she could have landed in, she had chosen - or it was better to say she hadn’t chosen - the one in which girls couldn’t wear trousers yet. But she didn’t care, she was going to do it anyway.  
When the woman gave her what she had asked for, she exited the room and closed the door, giving them all they privacy they needed. Emily immediately removed Mary-Beth’s muddy boots and Tilly’s shirt, wearing the light pink one she had chosen, and then she tried the man trousers which, unfortunately for her, were too big.  
“Geez… I look ridiculous!” she exclaimed watching herself in the mirror.  
“Maybe you can try suspenders to keep them up” suggested Mary-Beth.  
“No, it won’t work. Watch here” she said showing her how large those pants were.  
“And she said it’s the smallest size. I think you have to buy a skirt.”  
“No, I won’t wear…”  
“I know you don’t like them…”  
“They are uncomfortable.”  
“But you have to, if you want new and clean clothes.”Emily puffed. They called the woman back and then Mary-Beth chose a skirt from the catalogue for her: it was brown, plain and not too wide and when Emily moved in front of the mirror again, she started laughing uncontrollably, a loud high pitched laugh.  
“What’s so funny?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“Oh gosh, look at me! I look like my grand-grandmother” Emily replied with tears in her eyes.“You met your grand-grandmother?”  
“No of course, she died almost eighty years ago. Or she’ll die in around forty years, this time thing confuses me. Anyway, I-I… I look…I look good actually” she said turning around to watch her shape from every possible angle.  
Emily had to confess, Mary-Beth had a very good eye for clothes, because that thing fit her perfectly, and the match with the pale pink shirt was great. It made her look like a doll, like a lady, and she loved it. She lifted the skirt a little and under it a pair of beige leather boots made their appearance and the overall look was perfect.   
“Wait, I want to add a little detail” said Mary-Beth walking closer and, taking Emily’s hair in her hands, she started to braid her long blonde locks.  
“We have nothing to tie them with” Emily stated.  
“We don’t need anything, I’ll use the hair itself” replied Mary-Beth, and she really did, with a skill Emily was both surprised and jealous of.  
They took Emily’s jeans, Mary-Beth’s boots and Tilly’s shirt and walked downstairs. As soon as Emily met Mr. Morgan’s eyes, who in the meantime had come back, she blushed: she knew she looked different and deep down she hoped he would have noticed her new look. Useless to say she succeeded.  
“Well, you… you look good” he said not being able to stare at her for more than a couple of seconds.  
“Thank you” she whispered.  
“At least I know my expenses were worth it” he added with a cooler tone turning around to walk out of the store.  
“Wait, what? Your expenses?” she asked running to reach him and make him stop.  
“Who do you think payed for it?” he asked rhetorically.  
“B-but I thought…”  
“What? That clothes were for free?”  
“No, but… I wanted to pay for them myself.”  
“With what money?”Emily hadn’t thought it straight. She wanted to take them and then pay for them later, make some kind of agreement with the store employer or something like that, but she had no idea if that was possible.   
“I owe you. I’ll pay it back” was the only thing that she could say.  
Mr. Morgan grunted and made sign with his head to follow him outside where the supplies were already loaded on the wagon and Lenny was waiting for them.   
“Hey, look at you!” the boy exclaimed making Emily smile, but never with the same slight heartbeat Arthur had caused her before.  
“So, you said you wanted to have a bath” said Mary-Beth.  
Emily thought about it. A bath meant paying for it, paying meant she needed money, money meant Mr. Morgan had to pay for it, and she didn’t want to ask him for more, not after what he had already done.  
“No, I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to the saloon instead” she said.  
“Why the saloon?” asked Arthur.  
“For the job thing.”  
“I told you, they will never allow you to be a waitress” Lenny tried to convince her.  
“Let me try at least.”  
“I’ll come with you” proposed Mary-Beth.  
“No, you and Lenny guard the wagon with the supplies, I’ll go with her” said Arthur.

...

The saloon was a dangerous place for two women alone, that was what Arthur kept saying to himself to justify his decision, and when the girl didn’t complain, which meant she wanted him to go with her, he thought he had made the right choice and started walking.  
He sensed her steps behind him as he reached the saloon door and pushed one side open for her, but she didn’t walk inside. She kept staring at the entrance with a strange smile on her face.  
“What?” he asked.  
“I feel like I’m at Disney World” she said and took a few steps forward entering the saloon under Arthur’s bewildered eyes.  
As he went inside too, he aimed for the bar, expecting her to do the same, but then he looked behind him and noticed she wasn’t following him. She was wandering around the room with her nose in the air and her mouth half open. Arthur sighed exchanging a look with the bartender who was studying her figure too.  
“Miss, we don’t have all day” he complained.  
“Excuse me, is that a real stag?” she asked not paying attention to his words and pointing her finger to a stuffed stag head hanging on the wall.   
“Yes, Miss” answered the man behind the bar.  
“Why would you do something like that? It’s creepy” she replied.  
“We came here for a reason” said Arthur trying to make her focus again.   
“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry” she said getting close to the bar and laying her hands on it.  
“I’m looking for work. I’ve been a waitress in the past and I wanted to know if you need help. I can serve, clean…”  
“Let me stop you right there, Miss. I need no help” said the man.  
Arthur turned towards the room and looked at the men playing poker at the round table, except they weren’t playing poker anymore, they were nodding and glancing at the girl’s back with some stupid smiles on their faces and murmuring God knows what filthy things between them.  
“I can assure you, Mister, I’m a good worker. I won’t miss a day, I’ll be always on time and never complain.”  
“Miss…”  
“I just need a little money.”  
“Miss…”  
“There are people who count on me.”“Miss, I can’t help you. If you want to work here, there’s only one thing you can do” said the bartender nodding towards some scantly dressed women on the back of the room.  
The girl followed his gesture to glance at them and then fixed her eyes on the counter as her forehead rippled.  
“Okay, that’s enough” said Arthur grabbing her from her arm and pulling her away.  
“Hey, wait!”  
She tried to fight, but she was light and weak so dragging her across the room wasn’t difficult. Arthur pushed the door and stepped outside.  
“Let’s go” he ordered.   
“Wait, wait” she said slipping away from his grip.  
He turned to look at her and almost immediately her expression changed: her eyes widened and she had a flinch. Did he frighten her?  
“What happened?” she asked in a whisper.  
“You will never get a job inside there, it’s a waste of time.”  
It was a lie, he knew it.  
“I was going to convince him” she complained.  
“No, you was not.”  
“We need money.”  
“It’s not worth it.”“Let me decide what’s worth.”  
“You’re a fine girl, this ain’t a place for you!”

...

They stopped, looking at each other’s eyes. Those words had slipped from Arthur’s mouth and found a place in the corner of Emily’s heart. That’s what he thought of her, that she was a fine girl and he was trying to protect her from anything he had seen inside that saloon.   
Looking away and trying not to show his words had pleased her, she nodded before she said: “okay, let’s go.”  
Emily quietly followed him back to the wagon where Mary-Beth was waiting for her seated in the back among the supplies. She climbed on it and just like before she sat opposite to her friend.   
“So, what did they tell you?” asked Mary-Beth and as an answer Emily shook her head.  
“We’ll find something, we always do” she reassured her.  
Emily never thought she would have thanked the fact that they were leaving Valentine, but she did: when they were almost out to town, and they passed in front of a flock of sheep inside a fence, and the awful smell that filled the air became stronger, she thanked the fact that she was going back to camp.   
“Did you like Valentine?” asked Mary-Beth.  
She wanted to say no, but it would have been a lie, a half lie, because she had seen almost nothing and judge a place only from its smell didn’t seem right.  
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen much. Maybe we’ll come back some other day so I can really give a look around and maybe have a bath this time.”  
“I don’t understand, why you changed your mind?”   
Emily instinctively looked at Mr. Morgan’s back.  
“There were more important things to think about” she said in the end.  
For the rest of the journey they kept talking about the life in camp: Emily understood better how hierarchy worked, how the organization was divided among it’s members, how it was bad that some of them did nothing to contribute, but at the same time it was accepted. She finally knew all the names of the members and found out that there was another new entry, just like her, and she had probably seen her the first night inside that cabin, but had no idea of who she was.  
“So, they killed her husband and burned her house?” Emily asked to Arthur when they had almost reached their destination.  
“They killed her husband, yes, but the fire was an accident” replied Mr. Morgan.  
“An accident? How?”  
“Micah was acting like a fool and made a lantern fall on the ground. The place caught fire immediately.”  
“So, they killed her husband and you burned her house.”“It was an accident.”  
“It doesn’t sound like it.”  
Mr. Arthur chuckled and shook his head.  
“Do you find me funny, Mr. Morgan?” Emily asked smiling at his back.  
“I find you impossible” he replied with a playful tone.  
The wagon stopped and Emily jumped down, landing of a dry and grassy ground, without muck, or shit, or anything else that could cover in filth her new shoes she was so proud of. With the others they started taking sacks and boxes from the back and brought them to Mr. Pearson who looked at them with a joyful expression on his face.   
“You have to thank ‘Miss new clothes here’, Mr. Pearson” said Arthur leaving a box of cans on the table.  
“She insisted for shopping this morning.”  
“Oh I’ll thank her, I’ll prepare the best stew she’s ever eaten in her life” replied Pearson and his loud voice echoed through the entire clearing.   
“Don’t get your hopes too high” whispered Lenny in her ear causing her to giggle.  
Emily took the sack with the onions and walked around the wagon to reach the kitchen, but she found Miss Grimshaw on her way with her hands on her hips and her eyes on fire.  
“I’ve heard you went out for a little trip without telling anyone, and what’s more, you stole one of my girls” she scolded her.  
Emily froze, her eyes fixed on her face, her mouth open, but incapable to articulate any word. She had promised Mary-Beth she would have taken all the responsibility for her sneaking out, but now she had no idea what to do or say to that woman who looked so terrible, and according to the others’ saying, was also violent.  
“I-I…”  
“The girl brought food, Miss Grimshaw” Mr. Pearson stepped in.  
“And in town she looked for work. She’s trying” added Lenny showing up by her side.  
Emily was grateful for their rescue, but she had to face her, sooner or later she would have, so she thought that the sooner, the better.  
“I know I shouldn’t have told Mary-Beth to come with me, but I needed her. I have no idea how things work here and her advise has helped me a lot” she said all in one breath, but despite her words Miss Grimshaw didn’t move her eyes from her.  
Emily was about to step back, fearing a slap, a pull of hair, or something else that could have hurt her, when Miss Grimshaw spoke again with that harsh tone of hers.  
“When you’re done here, come look for me” she said.  
“And don’t you think you can do something like that and not being punished, Miss. We have rules here, otherwise we’d be animals” she kept shouting as she walked away.  
Emily sighed in relief. She couldn’t believe that woman: she was a lioness, she just had to look at her with those fierce eyes to scare the shit out of her, but she couldn’t help admiring her, the way she seemed to have everything and everyone under control.  
“Thank you, guys. I thought she was about to eat me alive” she joked with Lenny and Pearson.  
“First she would’ve asked me to cook you” replied the latter.  
Emily chuckled, lifting the sack of onions and bringing it to the kitchen, when a figure approached them with a slow feeble walking: she had blonde hair, hazel eyes and prominent cheekbones. Emily had never seen her, or maybe she thought she had caught a glimpse of her in the cabin back in the mountains, so she had to be the woman who had lost her husband.  
“Are you Mrs. Adler?” she asked.  
The woman nodded, lowering her eyes. Emily reached her and took both her hands, pushing the woman to make eye contact.  
“I want to offer my condolences. I am truly sorry for your loss.”  
As she said this she left her hands and hugged the poor woman who stiffed under her touch. Then, she let her go, and reading some shock on the woman’s face she decided that it was better if she didn’t push it too much. After all she was in pain, she needed her space.  
Emily was so happy they had bought supplies, not only because now those people had finally all they needed, but also because now she had biscuits for her breakfast! And canned peaches, too! It was strange how she loved canned peaches more than fresh peaches. Every fruit was better when it was fresh except peaches.  
She kept looking inside each and every crate and sack that she carried to Pearson’s table feeling proud for her gesture, and when she was done, she took her old clothes from the wagon and reached her tent. She thanked Tilly as she returned her light blue shirt and showed her her new clothes and then, just like Miss Grimshaw had ordered, she went looking for her.   
There still were some things they had to settle in camp, she wanted to change the disposition of a table, which was too distant from the kitchen, and then there were clothes that needed to be washed.   
“I’ll sent Mr. Smith to take some water at the river” said Miss Grimshaw.  
“I want to do it!” exclaimed Emily full of enthusiasm, but when she turned to look at her with her sever look, the girl immediately changed her attitude.  
“I mean… I’m not strong, I am useless for moving tables and heavy things. But I can take the water. That’s not too heavy.”  
“Well… you’ll go with him, then” answered Miss Grimshaw walking away.

...

As they walked silently one next to the other out of camp and down the hill, Emily with a bucket in her hand and Charles with a stick on his shoulders and two buckets at its ends, he couldn’t not notice the girl’s smile, her light pace, and her childish way to make the bucket swing in her hand. She seemed younger that her actual age and definitely too happy for the situation she was in: if what she had said was true, and she had just lost everything, how could she smile in that way?  
“Why are you smiling?” he asked intrigued.“It’s a beautiful day” she stated pointing at the sky, “I have new clothes” she added looking at herself, “and I’m going to take some water at the river. I feel like in a movie.”Then, she turned to look at him right in the eye.  
“You should smile more often, you know. It will make you feel better, and I guess you have a great smile” she said.  
Charles frowned. There was definitely something wrong with her.  
“Why would you say that?”  
“I don’t know, you look like someone with a good smile.”  
Charles shook his head and the girl giggled.  
Then, silence fell and for a moment Charles hoped they would have continued their little trip quietly, but he soon found out she wasn’t a quiet one.  
“Why are you with them?” she asked.  
“You mean Dutch?”  
“Yeah, you seem… I mean, you look like a good man, you all do actually, and I still can’t believe you are criminals. No offense.”  
“None taken.”  
“I know we still don’t know each other, but you haven’t done anything illegal until now. You don’t look… you don’t look like criminals.”“How do criminals look like?”  
She took a little before answering, like she had to think about it.  
“M-mean and…dangerous.”  
Charles smiled and shook his head again. She didn’t know what she was talking about, she didn’t know them, she had no idea of what they had done.  
“Aah… see? I knew you had a good smile” she exclaimed moving in front of him and pointing her finger at his face, walking backwards.   
“How old are you?” she asked returning to her place.  
“Twenty six.”“And you said you left your father’s house when you were thirteen. This means you’ve been on your own for…”  
Charles looked at her as she counted the years on her fingers.  
“Exactly thirteen years. What a coincidence. What have you being doing all this time?”  
“Surviving.”  
“I mean you were just a kid. How did you eat? Where did you sleep?”  
“I learned fast how to hunt and built me a tent.”  
“And no-one ever asked you what you were doing around all alone?”  
“No-one cared.”  
Silence fell again. Charles looked at her and this time he saw she had a troubled expression. For some minutes, none of them said anything, and he thought that maybe that was the end of the conversation.  
“Thank you for that deer this morning. How did you kill it, by the way?”  
He sighed as he understood that she would have never stopped talking.   
“Bow and arrows.”  
“Really? Gosh, you’re truly a real Native. Serious and quiet, great hunter, I bet you’re very good with horses too.”  
“If you say so.”  
Emily giggled again.  
“What about Arthur, what is he good at?” she asked then.  
Charles studied carefully her profile. She liked him, he could perfectly tell. So what was he going to say? That Arthur was a good outlaw? That he was good at threatening, killing and stealing? Because that was the truth, even though he knew Arthur was a better man than he seemed.  
“He’s a good hunter, too.”  
That was a lie, Arthur was a decent hunter.  
“And a good rider.”  
That was the truth.  
“And he is a hard worker.”  
“Mary-Beth told me he has a journal where he makes some drawings. Do you think he’s a good drawer?”  
“Probably.”It seemed that she had run out of questions because she didn’t ask anything else until they reached the river. As Charles took away his boots and folded his trousers to dip into the water, she looked around with that surprised smile on her face like she had never seen a stream, and she probably never did, and just from time to time she would whisper an amazed “wow”.   
She passed him the buckets, one by one, which he filled and gave back to her. They finished soon, he wore his boots again and they left.  
“How much time do you think we’re going to spend here?”   
She had started again with the questions, but Charles didn’t want to hurt her feelings telling her to shut up, so he just collected all his patience and answered.  
“I don’t know, the time they’ll need to find some money.”  
“I like this place, it has a beautiful view. My dad would have loved it, but my mom not so much. She is a city lover and my dad… he decided to live in Saint Denis just for her. His dream was a hut lost in the middle of nowhere and he always tells me that, when he first suggested her to leave the city to find a place like that, she felt so bad that she fainted. She says she owns her white hair to that day.”  
Emily let out a laugh so pure, that Charles couldn’t help but smile in turn. Then, her expression changed and just like the day before, her eyes lost the light. She had turned sad again and suddenly Charles felt the need to say something, but he had no idea of what to say. He wasn’t Hosea, he wasn’t good with words.   
When they came back with the water, Tilly immediately noticed something had changed. Emily wasn’t the same, she had an odd look, dark and cloudy. She thanked Charles for his help and then brought one of the buckets to the basin to fill it. Miss Grimshaw came closer with a pile of clothes and told the new girl to wash them. She meekly nodded, taking them from her arms and then turned to look at Tilly.  
“How do you wash clothes?” she asked.  
Yes, there was definitely something wrong, Tilly could understand it through her voice, and she was oddly worried. She barely knew that girl, she hadn’t given a damn about her until that moment, but now she was suddenly worried. Had Charles done something to her? No, Tilly knew Charles. He was a good man, he wouldn’t do something like that. So what?  
“Here, gimme these” she said and took the clothes from her arms.  
She put them beside the basin and one by one she showed her how she had to do it. Then, she gave way to her and watched her as she did the work.  
“Good, you can do it on your own” she said and did as to stand up, but then she looked at her face and changed her mind.  
“What happened at the river? Why you look so sad?” she asked.  
“Oh, no, nothing happened. I just… I was thinking about my parents and…”  
She shook her head and then gave her a big sad smile.  
“I’m fine, thank you for asking” she said as she started to rub the clothes.

...

That time there was no Hosea that could make her feel better and she had to fight with the unhappy thoughts on her own. Tilly had been very kind to her, showing her what to do and asking her what was wrong before she left.   
Washing clothes didn’t help, it reminded her of her home, even though back then she used a washing machine. Probably telling Tilly about the washing machine would have been fun, look at her face as she explained how they had invented something that cleaned the clothes on its own, but she didn’t feel in the mood for conversation, not anymore.  
The day passed fast. Help Miss Grimshaw was an adventure: that woman was never happy about anything, if they didn’t do it, she got angry, if they did it but not the way she wanted, she got angry, if they did it all over again, following scrupulously her indications, they were losing too much time and she got angry.   
Emily didn’t complain and with a “yes, Miss Grimshaw” or a “ okay, Miss Grimshaw” did everything she wanted under her careful eyes. She wasn’t lying when she had said she would have punished her for what she had done, the hard work was the proof of it, and accept the punishment without saying a word was the best thing to do.  
When the sunset arrived and she finally let her free, Emily reached the campfire and sat on the log to rest her legs.   
“Hi guys” she said to Javier and Micah.  
The former had a guitar on his lap and he was fixing it’s cords or something like that, the latter was just seated there looking at the people who from time to time walked in front of him.  
“Well, look at you, with your fine new clothes. It seems your getting used to live in 1899” said Micah, but by the tone he was using Emily understood he didn’t really believe she came from the future, it was just a way to mock her.  
She didn’t want to be the victim of that prick again and she wanted to answer him something, maybe use a good comeback, a smart one, that could shut his mouth forever. But Emily was no such girl, she didn’t have the wit for comebacks and insults, so she opted for something in her range: ignore him.  
During the day she had recovered a little of her usual good humor, and she felt again in the mood for talking and asking questions, and she didn’t waste any time.  
“Can you play?” she asked to Javier nodding towards his guitar.  
“Ah-ah.”  
“Who thought you?”  
“No-one. I learned on my own.”  
“Cool. Can you also sing?”  
“Yes, I can.”  
“Well then, I can’t wait to hear something. Do you sing in English or Spanish?”  
“Do you ever stop talking?”  
Emily looked at Micah as he said those words, feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach.   
“After two days you’re still an asshole” she said to his face, but she could feel her words were insecure and her lips where trembling. She was hurt.  
“You expected me to change?”  
Emily quickly looked away. Why he had to be like that? Why she was going along with him?  
“I’ll take something to eat” she said and stood up.  
“Why don’t you bring me something too?” asked Micah.  
“Why should I?” she complained crossing her arms on her chest.  
She felt insulted and mistreated by that man and she summoned all her strength not to run away and hide in a corner. That little good humor she had recovered got lost again and that day was about to become one of those she just wanted to forget.   
“Oh, I didn’t know you were such a touchy type” he sneered.  
“I’m not touchy, I just don’t understand why you have to treat me like garbage. What have I done to you?”  
“Hey, calm down girl. I was just observing that you are quite a chatterbox. I enjoy the silence.”  
“Well you could say it in a kinder way.”  
“Okay then, I’ll remember that. Now, would you bring me something to eat, please?”   
Emily fixed her eyes in his. Was he playing with her? Probably. Was she happy to be treated like an idiot? Absolutely not. But at the same time she wanted to be better than him, she wanted to show him that politeness and goodness are the right means to reach a purpose, and maybe in the end she could have changed his way of doing things.  
She reached the pot, filled two plates, took two spoons and came back.  
“See, with kindness you can obtain everything” she said as she handed the plate to Micah.  
At first he frowned at her, like he didn’t believe she had actually done it, but eventually he took the plate and smiled, a true smile, not one of his usual smirks, or at least that’s what Emily wanted to believe.  
“Do you want some too, Javier?” she asked to the other man.  
“No, thank you” he said as he kept moving his eyes from her to Micah just like he had seen a ghost. “I prefer to eat later” he added.  
Emily shrugged and reached the log to sit again and eat.  
“So, how is life in the future?” asked Micah leaning forward on his chair. “I mean, is it much different than now?”  
He seemed to have lost all that mocking tone he had used with her before and Emily thought it was due to her act of kindness, but she didn’t know Micah and his way to play with those he considered weak.   
“Quite a lot” she said with a piece of potato in her mouth.  
“Here is everything so… calm and slow. It takes you a lot to do everything. I’ve just spent two hours washing a bunch of clothes. In my time I need thirty minutes.”  
She took another bite before carrying on. Pearson had maintained his promise, the stew was really better that night.  
“We live faster, always running, always with something to do, a place to go, someone to meet.”  
“It sounds awful” said Javier.  
“Actually, it’s not. We’re used to it. And do a lot of things makes you believe you’re doing something with your life, that you’re not wasting time.”  
“That is something really wise to say, my dear” said Hosea approaching them and sitting on the log right next to Emily.   
“Is it?” she asked as a smile widened on her lips.  
“Trust me, you’re speaking with the wisest man in camp” he joked.  
“I’ve missed your wisdom today. I’ve thought about my parents again.”  
Hosea nodded and moved on the log to look better at her.  
“There is something I can do?” he asked.  
She shook her head.  
“No, no-one can do anything.”“Think… think about the fact that they are fine. They are home, healthy…”  
“They’d be super worried about me right now.”  
“But they are fine. That’s what matters.”  
Emily nodded and gave him a tiny smile, but she was already feeling better. Following her instinct she leaned forward and put an arm around his neck, holding him tight until she felt one of his shy hands stroking her back.   
“So, you’re telling me that you believe her, old man?” asked Micah and Emily immediately let Hosea go.  
She fixed her eyes in his and it gave her the impression he was deeply thinking about his answer.  
“Yes, yes I do” he said in the end. 

...

Micah scoffed and shook his head: if that was Hosea’s wisdom it wasn’t much. Then, he took out his gun to polish it, but he had no time to take a rug that he heard a laud gasp and looking up he saw the girl had stood up.  
“No, please put that away” she whimpered with her eyes fixed on the pistol.  
Micah smirked watching carefully at that pretty face and wondering if she was really such an idiot. She had to be, she had brought him the stew.  
“Hey, don’t freak out, girl. I’m just cleaning it” he said.  
“No, no put that away. I don’t like it.”  
She moved as to go away, but Hosea stopped her.  
“Miss Emily, sit, sit down again, please” he said with a soothing voice.  
She didn’t move her eyes from Micah’s gun which he started polishing without giving a damn about her stupid fears.  
“You afraid of guns?” asked Javier.  
The more he saw the more he couldn’t believe how strange that girl was. First, she had brought some stew to Micah, just because he had pretended to speak politely. Second, she talked about her “previous life” and her parents like she really believed in what she was saying, and she had also convinced Hosea about her follies. And finally, she was panicking because Micah took out his gun to clean it, like she didn’t know they were criminals, which meant they did far worse things with guns than polishing them.  
“Listen, you know what we are” said Hosea as she sat again.  
“Yes.”  
“You know what we do.”  
“I-I imagine.”  
“There is no need for you to be scared of us.”  
“I’m not scared of you, I don’t like firearms. They are dangerous. Too dangerous.”  
“As you can see we all have one. Some of us two. If you freak out every time we polish one, you’ll run away by the end of the week.”  
“Maybe she can try to hold one” suggested Javier. He had learned that facing his own fears helped to overcome them.  
“Do you feel like doing it?” asked Hosea.  
She looked at them with her big eyes which seemed even bigger under the light of the fire.  
“I-I don’t know” she answered in the end.  
“Here, look” said Hosea.  
He wanted to help her. If she was afraid of guns she was vulnerable, especially in a place where everybody was used to point one to your face for no real reason. He took out his pistol and showed her.  
“It’s unloaded, so there’s nothing to worry about” he reassured her.  
She kept staring at it, but did nothing, so he reached out a hand and took her plate, pushing the gun in her hands instead.   
“Oh… it’s heavy” she whispered.  
Then, with a little trembling hand she brushed a finger on the engraved steel and hinted a smile.  
“Did you choose the engravings?” she asked.  
“Ah-ah” he affirmed.  
“W-well, i-it’s nice. Can you take it back?” she asked and handed it over like she was holding a hand grenade.   
Hosea chuckled and gave her the plate back.  
“Maybe one day you’ll learn how to use one” he said.  
“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I loved writing this chapter! The childish Arthur, that we can perfectly see also during the game, was super fun, and the Charles annoyed by all her questions was even funnier. 
> 
> Writing someone like Emily is a challenge: she's almost the opposite of me, especially physically (I'm more like Karen), but also her personality is different. I would tell Micah to shut his mouth and use subtle puns to mock him every moment! So writing someone so naive is difficult sometimes, but also a great inspiration because she has a great improvement to do as a character.
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> See you next week!


	6. The difficulty of being a woman

That morning Emily woke up with an urgent need: she needed to brush her teeth. She hadn’t done it in thee days and started wondering how could those people live without brushing. She had asked Mary-Beth, of course, who confirmed the existence of toothbrushes and paste, but they didn’t use it. Apparently in 1899 it was considered as something only rich people could do, because they had time and money to waste in personal hygiene. So Emily had to settle for an old friend: the chewing gum. They kindly informed her that gum was an old habit already and that the mint flavor variation appeared at least thirty years earlier, a fact that surprised her.   
After all the work Miss Grimshaw had given them the day before, there was nothing to do in camp, and when Emily said nothing, she meant nothing. Again, she questioned Mary-Beth, asking her what did they do when they didn’t work. Her answers was: nothing. They read something, wandered around, complained about the boredom, insulted each other. The last one seemed to be an important part of camp-life: instead of talking with each other, act like a group, like a family, at the first chance they had they were at each other’s throat.   
For example Emily soon understood Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen didn’t like Molly, and apparently Miss Grimshaw didn’t like her, either, but Emily couldn’t understand why. They were all women living in a difficult situation, they should have sticked together, have each other’s back. Where was their sisterhood?  
When Mary-Beth returned to her book, Emily started walking among the tents, preparing herself to a day full of attempts to understand those people, the only thing she could do to avoid being bored to death. After all, she had no music, no interesting books, no TV and no Internet.  
As she reached the center of the camp, she spotted Miss Grimshaw sipping something from a cup right next to the pot in company of the man who Emily learned to be Mr. Strauss, the money lender. She gulped and summoned all her courage before approaching them. That woman had something that attracted her like a moth with a lantern, the same effect Hosea had on her.   
“Good Morning, Miss Grimshaw” she said shyly.  
“Morning to you” she replied.  
Even when she wasn’t giving orders, the inflection of her voice was strong and straightforward.   
“Morning” said Strauss and Emily nodded as an answer.  
“I-I was wondering, why everybody addresses to you with your last name, Miss Grimshaw?”  
The woman seemed taken aback by that strange question and for a moment she struggled with her own thoughts.  
“I guess it’s a way to show respect. Even though they don’t give me much respect apart from calling me by my last name. These new generations, they’ll be the ruin of this world.”  
Emily smiled at her complaining, thinking about all the times she had heard something like that in 2020. Some things never change.  
“That’s a pity, you have really a beautiful name, they should use it more often.”  
Miss Grimshaw frowned.  
“Are you trying to make fun of me, girl?”  
“N-no, Miss Grimshaw, never! I-I… you just remind me a lot of… my mother has a similar personality. She’s not as strict as you are, b-but… she’s the one who governs the house and gives orders and taught me how to take care of myself.”  
Emily talked with her head low, thinking how pathetic she was sounding.  
“What about your father?” asked Mr. Strauss and Emily noticed his foreign accent.  
“Oh no, my father is more like a subject” she laughed.  
Then, after an embarrassing silence fell, Emily addressed Mr. Strauss.  
“You have a strange accent. Where you come from?”  
“Austria.”  
“Really? My grandfather’s brother lived for some time in Austria after the war ended and he kept telling us how much Austrians were different from Germans. He said they were more… friendly somehow.”  
“Which war?” asked Mr. Strauss.  
“The… Second World War” answered Emily, but while she pronounced the words she already new they couldn’t understand.  
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about things you still haven’t lived.”  
“Oh for Lord’s sake girl. When will you give it a rest with this nonsense?” Miss Grimshaw rebuked her.  
“It’s not her fault, Susan. You can perfectly tell she really believes in her delusions” answered Mr. Strauss.   
Emily lowered her eyes and felt like she had been stabbed in the back. They didn’t believe her, but what could she expect? They seemed two down to earth people, they didn’t have the predisposition to believe her.  
“I’m sorry, I-I’ll go find something else to do than bother you” she murmured and without looking at them she quickly walked away.  
Her legs leaded her in the back of the kitchen and she realized where she was only when she saw the prisoner tied to the tree. Again, she thought that probably he was tied there for a reason, maybe because he was too dangerous, or that he had done something terrible, and he deserved to be there. So again she walked away without looking at him twice.   
As she kept going, thinking about how many people in that camp were just not going to believe her and her story, she passed right in front of Arthur’s tent, but he wasn’t there. She stopped and looked around for a second, being sure he wasn’t in her range of sight before drawing closer.   
The first thing that stroke her was the amount of photographs: one of a woman on the table, another woman on the crate at the back of the bed, and then three on the side of the wagon. On the table by the bed there also was Arthur’s hat, which Emily took before sitting on the cot. She looked at it for a while before placing it on her head and smiling feeling how heavy it was compared to what she expected. Then, she turned around to look better at the three photos hanged on the wagon.   
There was a… dog? There was a man, who, thanks to the resemblance to Arthur and to the name written on a tablet he was holding, Emily could understand was his father. But was the third photo that shocked Emily most of all: a young Arthur with two young Dutch and Hosea! The latter was the one Emily focused on, with his very pale blond hair, and she couldn’t help but notice he was incredibly handsome! Even more than Arthur who with the years had got definitely better.   
So, that was the place Arthur slept in, she thought turning to sit straight again. Maybe he had his diary somewhere. She looked around, but the only thing she found was a little newspaper cutting dated 1887 about a bank robbery, and reading the description of the suspects, Emily recognized Dutch, Hosea and Arthur. She laughed picturing the scene in her mind, and in the end she was surprised to find out the money they had stolen, they gave it away to the poor.   
“Hey, what are you doing?”   
Emily turned to smile at Arthur as he walked closer and stood up showing him the cutting.  
“A bank robbery?” she asked.  
“You know you’re trespassing a private property, don’t you?”  
“I didn’t think you minded too much about private property” she laughed.  
Arthur took the hat from her head and put it on his with an annoyed face that made everything more hilarious for Emily.  
“So, that’s your father, I got this” she said pointing at the photo while Arthur took the cutting from her hands.  
“And I suppose this is your mother” she added taking the photo from the table and turning it to read the name.  
“Beatrice, it’s a beautiful name.”Arthur took the photo too and put it back to its place.  
“But I don’t understand who’s that woman. Your sister maybe?” she asked pointing at the other woman picture.  
Arthur took her by her shoulders and made her turn around.  
“This is none of your business” he said pushing her out of his tent.   
“I’m just trying to know you better. I love that picture with Dutch and Hosea, by the way. The three of you looked awesome!” she replied turning to look at him.  
His pissed off face made Emily laugh, but in the end she returned serious.  
“I’m sorry you’ve lost your parents. Your mum looked like a good woman” she said looking at him right in the eye.   
“I can’t say the same about your dad, because from my understanding he was a criminal too, but…”  
Arthur’s hands on her made her jump and when he spoke a shiver ran down her back.  
“Don’t talk about things you don’t know” he growled.  
She froze on her place looking at his clear eyes. He had the same look of the day before, when they came out of the saloon, the look that had scared her, that made her understand he wasn’t joking anymore, the look that had the power to put her back into her place.  
As he walked away she felt suddenly heavy. She was sorry and ashamed for what she had done. He was right, she didn’t know anything about him, she had no right to say things about him, his family and his past. She wanted to run, reach him and tell him how sorry she was, but she didn’t, scared by the fact he could get even angrier.

...

Emily was a very active kind of person, always working, always doing something with herself, and that situation was boring her, so she had to think about something. Who she wanted to spend her time with? She didn’t get to choose. As she left Mr. Morgan’s private space, Jack came running and asked her to play hopscotch again.   
“Why don’t we try something new instead?” she asked kneeling down to look at him right in the eye.  
“Do you know other games?”  
“Oh I know plenty of games. For example: what do you want to be when you grow up, Jack?”  
The little boy frowned: no-one had ever asked him that question and for him it seemed something impossible to answer.   
“I don’t know” he said in the end.  
“Well, when I was little, I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I wanted to be an explorer. So I took my backpack and went exploring.”  
“What did you explore?”  
“Everything. I’ve been in the African deserts, the highest and coldest mountains of Asia and the thickest jungles of South America.”“Really?”  
“Yes, really. I just had to close my eyes and I could see them.”  
“How?”  
“Use your imagination. Come, I’ll show you.”  
The process was more difficult than Emily expected. Jack was four years old, but she had never seen a more down-to-earth kid in all her life. Imagination was a strange word in his vocabulary.   
“When Uncle Hosea reads a story to you, you imagine what happens on your head, right?” she asked.  
“Yes.”  
“It’s the same thing, you just have to take the images from your head and bring them in the reality. Now, first of all, explorers have hats, big hats, so we have to find two.”  
After they found the hats - Emily borrowed a big one from Charles and Jack one from his father - she started with her play. She brought him into the woods, searching among the leaves and dirt for traces of the ‘big mountain gorilla’, then she made him cross the 'Pacific Ocean’ on a canoe, which was a crate, and landed on the exotic ‘New Guinea’.  
“Look, Jack!” she exclaimed pointing her finger at Tilly in the distance.  
“She’s one of the native girls of the island. Should we approach her and find out if she speaks our language?”

...

The new girl was playing again with Jack and this time her game was even crazier than the jumping on numbers. They kept wandering around camp, or in the woods, or on the edge of the cliff and pointing at things that didn’t exist. At one point they even approached the fire, where some of the gang members were sitting, with a stealth and careful pace like they were hunting a dangerous animal, but instead the girl pointed at Uncle’s face and said: “Look Jack, this is a great shaman of the Australian desert. They say he has magical powers. We should show our respects.”  
Javier, Bill and Uncle himself laughed in a snort looking at her slim figure bowing in reverence.  
“Oh great shaman, please, enlighten us with your wisdom.”  
“What exactly are you doing?” exclaimed Lenny coming closer to the fire.  
“Oh no! They sent one of their warriors. Hurry Jack, bring me my sword, we have to defend ourselves!” she yelled to the little boy.  
Without hesitation, he run away and Emily looked at Lenny who was about to sit down.   
“No, no don’t sit, please. We have to fight” she said.  
“I won’t fight with you” he replied.  
“Come on, Lenny! I’m doing it for Jack.”  
“What? Acting like a fool?” asked Bill.  
“Playing with the imagination. He needs this” she answered.  
Lenny didn’t want to, it was stupid, it was humiliating, but she was begging him with the eyes.  
“Here’s your sword!” yelled little Jack running towards her and giving her two sticks.  
“Take your weapon, sir. We’ll see if you are as brave as the stories tell” she said with a big fake voice and handed one stick to Lenny.  
He sighed and looked at the people around him as they were all wondering if he would have played that stupid game. He had no choice: he took the stick and put himself in position.  
The mayhem she was causing caught the attention of more people until even Dutch came out of his tent to look at the scene.  
“The hell are they doing?” he heard Arthur’s voice by his side.  
“I have no idea” he laughed.  
Lenny dodged and attacked again and finally succeeded in hitting Emily’s leg.  
“Oh no!” she exclaimed and threw herself on the ground.  
“Jack! Jack come here! I need you to take my place! Here, take the sword. Fight my faithful friend, fight for my honor!”  
Everybody laughed again at her words as Jack took her place in the “fight”.  
Arthur chuckled too and took a few steps towards that unusual scene. That girl had had the power to make Lenny play. Lenny, who always did everything in his power to make the others believe he was a grown up man. How had she done it?  
“Well, she surely is a better actress than you, Arthur” joked Hosea showing up by his side.  
“Yeah, maybe you should take her with you to the next robbery.”  
Hosea chuckled.  
“Maybe I will.”

...

Finally, Lenny let Jack hit him and, just like Emily had done, he threw himself on the ground and played dead. A loud shout of joy raised from the people around them for Jack’s victory and Emily was delighted by the fact that she had been able to involve all of them in the game.  
“Okay, I guess it’s done. Go give the hat back to your daddy. We’ll explore more another day” she said taking Charles’ hat off.  
Jack hopped away and she walked closer to Lenny as he was standing up.  
“Thank you for playing the game. I didn’t know you were such a good actor” she joked.  
“Never good as you” he replied.  
“And also thanks to the great shaman, for his infinite patience” she addressed Uncle with another bow.  
“My pleasure, dear. You’ll be surprised to know I’ve actually been to Australia.”  
“Really? When?” she asked sitting on the log near the campfire.  
“Australia? You?” asked Bill making Emily understand he didn’t believe him.  
“Why is it so difficult to believe?” she asked.  
“Ah! I’m more inclined to believe you come from the future than he’s ever been to Australia.”  
“And you’re right, I never did.”  
Emily frowned.  
“So, you lied?” she asked.  
“I’ve never been there, but I tried to. I made it as far as Chicago” answered Uncle.  
Emily fixed her eyes on him, trying to understand if he was playing dumb, or he really was, before she busted out laughing.   
“Chicago ain’t nowhere near Australia” exclaimed Bill, who unlike Emily seemed annoyed by Uncle’s words.  
“No… but it’s on the way.”  
Emily laughed again, louder and longer.  
“What’s so fun?” asked Bill.  
“You can’t be serious Uncle” she said among the tears.  
“Why not? That’s the way for Australia. Maybe one day we’ll all go there and live the rest of our lives as kangaroo farmers.”  
Emily couldn’t believe her ears. If those people were outlaws their only crime was lack of common sense!  
“Okay, I think I’ll return the hat to Charles” she said standing up and drying her tears.   
She covered the distance to Mr. Smith’s tent still thinking about that crazy conversation she had just had, the road to Australia that passed through Chicago, the kangaroo farmers… That man couldn’t be serious.   
“Here, Charles. Thank you for lending me this” she said at the man as she reached his tent.  
He was making some arrows and the thing intrigued her so much that she stopped by his side for a while to look at him working. But of course she didn’t limit herself to watch, she had to ask questions. She asked him everything about making arrows, the type of feathers he had to use, the type of wood, and then she passed to bows, how difficult it was to use one, how difficult it was to make one…

...

Charles had never minded to teach people how to do things and that was the only thing that stopped him from standing up and walk away from her. She was a good girl after all, she just had one flaw: the constant need to speak.   
“I know that Natives learn how to hunt from their horses when they are very young, is that true?” she asked.  
“Yeah. How do you know that?” Charles asked in turn. That was his first question.  
“I read it somewhere. Is it difficult? To ride a horse, I mean.”  
“You can’t do it?”  
She shook her head.  
“You want to learn?”  
“Oh no, for God’s sake. I hate horses.”“What?”  
Charles couldn’t believe what she had just said and stopped what he was doing to stare deeply at her.  
“I mean… I don’t hate horses, I just don’t like them. They’re dangerous.”  
“Who told you that?”  
“My father.”  
“Has he ever ridden one?”  
She seemed to think about it.  
“No, I don’t think so.”“So, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”“But they are dangerous.”  
“Only if you can’t control them.”  
Charles watched her carefully before he took his decision.  
“Come, I’ll show you” he said standing up from his chair.  
“Show me what?”  
“That there is nothing to be afraid of.”“No, Charles, really, I don’t…”“Come” he said and took one of her hands to help her stand.  
Arthur had been looking at them from the distance while they were seated one on the chair and the other on the ground. From that little that he knew about Charles, he could perfectly tell he was extremely annoyed by all those questions the girl was asking him, but he was behaving wonderfully, and he didn’t expect nothing less from Charles.   
As he saw them standing up and walking away, his curiosity raised and he moved away from the tree he was laying against to follow them. They reached the external part of camp and he heard Charles saying “wait here” to the girl before he drew closer to the horses.  
Arthur took the pack of cigarettes and brought one to his lips, lighting it and taking a puff. Charles came back, leading his horse by the reins. What were they doing? Were they planning to go someplace? Where could Charles possibly take her?

...

In the meantime, Charles had come back and stopped his horse right in front of her, who, in some kind of involuntary reflex, took a step backwards.   
“Here, you see? You have nothing to be afraid of. She’s calm and completely under control. Touch her.”  
“W-what?”  
“Come on, stroke her. Here on the neck” said Charles showing her how to do it.  
Emily felt her heartbeat speed up as she took a step towards that big creature. She was really doing it, she was really about to touch a horse. Well, technically, she had already touched one, the night they had brought her to camp, but now she was doing it intentionally.   
She expected everything from horses but being so soft. They really had the smoothest kind of hair and this new unexpected sensation pushed her to keep touching it.  
“Hey, what are you doing?” asked a familiar voice.  
Emily turned her head to look at Arthur and with a thin whisper, just like she was afraid she would have troubled the horse if she spoke too loudly, she said: “I’m touching a horse!”  
“What, you never…”  
But Arthur had no need to ask it, he could perfectly tell she had never touched a horse from the way she was doing it.  
“Not like this” he sighed coming closer and throwing away his cigarette.  
“You always have to keep her calm, so use all your hand, like this” he said patting the horse’s neck and Emily couldn’t not notice how big his hands were.  
She followed his example, but the horse, with all those hands on it, for a moment felt irked and shook its big neck. Emily gasped and took a step back, withdrawing her hand like a shellfish inside its shell.   
“Shh shh shh. Easy. You have nothing to worry about, really. She’s the quietest horse on earth” said Charles.  
“It’s a she? What’s her name?” asked Emily.  
“Taima.”  
“I’ve never seen a horse with all these strange colors” she stated touching a lock of the horse’s mane.  
Taima was brown, a little bit reddish, black, white, grey, spotted, plain. She looked like a Picasso of colors.  
“This breed generally is” answered Charles.  
“Breeds? There are horses breeds?”  
Arthur and Charles exchanged a puzzled look before they both looked at her.  
“Sorry, stupid question. From the way you’re looking at me I guess there are horses breeds.”  
After a moment of silence, Emily took a step away and said: “okay, thank you Charles.”  
“What, you’re done? You don’t want to mount up?” he asked.  
Emily froze.   
“What? No no no. Never.”  
“You have to learn if you want to move around here.”  
“I don’t need to. I can use the wagons.”  
“A wagon is far slower and catches more attention. Charles is right: you should learn” said Arthur.  
“I will never get on one of these things.”  
“It’s easy. Show her, Arthur.”  
Emily withdrew as she watched Mr. Morgan put both his hands on the saddle and a foot in the stirrup.  
“If you want to sit straddle, you do this way” he said hoisting up and sitting on the back of Taima.  
“But if you wear a dress and you want to sit like a lady… Charles would you help her?”  
Charles walked by her side and did as to take her by her waist, but she took a step back and shook her head.  
“No, no, really…”  
“We’ll be right here. Nothing will happen” Charles reassured her.  
“And I’m staying on the horse with you” added Arthur looking at her from above.  
Emily felt something moving inside her stomach: he was staying with her on the horse. She walked towards Charles’s hands who in a blink of an eye raised her and she found herself on a pretty hard saddle and with her face very close to Arthur’s. He smelled of tobacco.  
“See there’s nothing to worry about. When you’ll start to feel comfortable on a horse, Charles here can teach you how to ride.”  
“Can’t you teach me?” she asked naively.   
Arthur’s eyes met hers and for a second all around her slowed down.  
What was she doing? Was she really starting to like him? An outlaw, a criminal, a man who was at least ten years older than her?  
He chuckled and looked away.  
“I can’t, Miss. I’m leaving tomorrow” he said.  
Leaving? To go where? To do what? She wanted to ask all these questions, but all that she could do was saying a disconsolate “oh”.  
“But don’t you worry, Charles here is one of the best riders, he’ll do a great job.”  
An idea popped in Emily’s mind: if she had learned how to ride a horse by the time Arthur had come back, they would have been able to wander around together. Again, it was a silly and childish thought, but Emily was like this, sweet and naive.  
She stretched out her arms and made Charles understand she wanted to get down. He dutifully helped her and then Arthur dismounted Taima.  
“Which one is your horse, Arthur?” she asked looking at the other animals around her.  
“That one” he pointed to a spotted brown and white horse.  
“Is it a ‘he’ or a ‘she’?”  
“A ‘he’” he answered walking towards it with Emily right behind him.  
“He has a name?”  
“Not yet. I found it recently and I haven’t had the time to choose one.”To Emily that white and brown mantle reminded more of a cow than a horse, and cows reminded her of ranches. Looking at Arthur for a brief moment, she imagined him like a rancher, with that cowboy hat and a whip in his hands to make the cattle move, and a name appeared in her mind.  
“Drover” she murmured.  
“Drover? You have an unusual taste for horses names” he laughed.  
“I didn’t know there was a rule for horses names.”  
He chuckled and silence fell again as Emily couldn’t remove from her head the idea that he was going to leave.  
“Where will you go tomorrow?” she asked.  
“I’ll wander for a bit, see if I can find something, stay on my own.”  
“How long are you going to stay away?”  
She couldn’t restrain herself from asking and for a second she had the impression that Arthur was becoming suspicious of all those questions, but he fast hided it.  
“I don’t know, as long as I need.”  
“But… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You already have all the freedom you can possibly want here. You can leave tomorrow morning and come back in the evening, no-one said you have to spend days out. And then, what will you do on your own? Without company. Won’t you be bored to death? Or feel lonely?”  
Arthur smiled and shook his head. No, she couldn’t understand, and he couldn’t understand her, either. Their time was different, their way to do things was different, Emily knew it, deep inside her. Arthur didn’t, because he couldn’t accept the fact that she came form another time, but he had realized she had a different mindset and that was exactly what made him curious about her, even though he didn’t feel the same she felt for him.   
“I have my own way of doing things” he cut short in the end.  
Emily just nodded and she was about to walk away when she thought about something else.  
“I’m sorry about this morning. You were right, I shouldn’t stick my nose in your life. Peace?” she asked showing him her little finger.  
Arthur smiled again at that childish way to apologize and then murmured “peace” before he patted her on her shoulder and walked away.

...

Who knew what he was going to do around the country all alone for an indefinite number of days? Emily kept asking herself that, while she walked around camp again. Her feet brought her back to her tent where Karen and Mary-Beth were seated.  
“Hi, what are you doing?” she asked.  
“Mending socks” replied Mary-Beth. Then, she raised her look on Emily and frowned slightly.  
“What have you been doing? Your hair is messy” she asked.  
“Oh, I played with Jack. The brush is in your crate, right?” said Emily walking to the back of the wagon.  
“Yes, always there.”  
Emily opened Mary-Beth’s crate and took her hairbrush, which she had already used plenty of times in the previous days. It wasn’t something she was used to, use other people things, especially hairbrushes, but she had no choice. She returned to the front of the wagon and took a seat next to them.  
“Uff, it’s not fair. Men can go around, drink, fight, do whatever they want, and we are forced to stay here and sew socks” complained Mary-Beth.  
“Who said that? We can take a wagon and go to Valentine. Have some fun, meet some people…” replied Emily.  
“Yeah, keep living in the dream land” said Karen with her usual sarcasm.  
Emily put the brush down to look at her.  
“We are free. Don’t let anyone ever tell you something different” she stated with the hardest tone she could use.  
“Yeah, look at how much freedom we got.”  
“What do you mean?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“They don’t allow us to do anything apart from… clean, govern the house and lie on our backs for money. If that means freedom for you.”  
Emily sighed. It was 1899, she always had to remind herself that.  
“I guess you’re right. We can’t even vote” murmured Mary-Beth.  
“Why you care about voting?” asked Karen.  
“I don’t know, it’s one of the things I’d like to do.”  
“Don’t worry, you will. And soon” said Emily with a big smile.  
“Really? When?” exclaimed Mary-Beth while Karen scoffed.  
Emily moved her eyes from one to the other.  
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”  
“Oh come on! It won’t make any difference if two people know” Mary-Beth encouraged her.  
Emily leaned forward and made sign to her to do the same.  
“1920” she whispered.  
“So early! Really?”  
“Yeah, of course” Karen snorted.  
“Well, when we get to 1920 we’ll see who’s right. We’re all gonna make it to that year” Emily replied.   
Karen frowned and fixed her eyes on Emily’s face, who stared back at her.  
“We?” she asked.  
“Well, until I find a way to time-travel back to 2020 I don’t see I have much of a choice. And when all the things I say will happen, one after the other, even you will have to believe me.”  
Emily smiled. She smiled not because she had cornered Karen, but because she thought that, if Karen started to believe her, they could’ve become friends, or at least she would stop to dislike her for no reason, and in time she’d be forced to believe her.   
“Anyway” said Karen shaking her head. “Even if we’ll get to vote, who will you vote for?” she asked to Mary-Beth.  
“Well… I have no idea. When the time comes I’ll think about it” she answered.  
“Who’s your president now?” asked Emily. She couldn’t remember.  
“P. W. McIntosh” answered Karen.   
“Oh right.”  
“What about 2020? Who’s the president?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“Oh, she is a great woman. Just think that…”  
“Wait. She?” exclaimed Karen.   
Both she and Mary-Beth were looking at her with their eyes wide open.  
“Yes, she’s a woman. I told you, things are different in the future. No more discrimination.”  
Emily was surprised by the fact that a woman president was shocking them so much. After all, they only had one hundred years of difference, how much could the minds change in one hundred years? Apparently, a lot.  
“So, what we have to do if we want to go to Valentine?” she asked.  
“We need a man with us” answered Mary-Beth.  
“Oh gosh” she whispered. She didn’t like this patriarchal way to do things at all.   
“What if we want to go alone?”  
“If we go alone, we go on foot” replied Karen.  
“Why not with a wagon?”  
“If they steal the wagon in town, it will be our fault. It already happened in the past” answered Mary-Beth.  
“So, no wagon. Horses?”  
The idea wasn’t appealing, but she would do anything to have a little independence.  
“Same thing. If they steal one, we won’t be able to buy another” said Karen.  
“And why should the presence of a man change things?”  
“Because men are intimidated by other men, not women” replied Karen.  
Her tone was so matter-of-factly, that Emily found nothing to reply.   
“Okay, okay. Who do you think is going to come with us?”  
They thought of Charles or Javier. They seemed to be the fittest for the task. Emily suggested Uncle, but the two girls denied vigorously. Uncle was useless.  
“Okay, I’ll go ask them” said Emily standing up.  
“Now?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“When else? We still have most of the day.”  
“What about Miss Grimshaw?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“We have to ask permission? We’re not working” stated Emily.  
“She wants to know if we leave camp” replied Karen.  
“Okay, I’ll ask her first. You two get ready. And ask Tilly if she wants to come” she yelled running away.  
Emily found Miss Grimshaw behind Dutch’s tent, taking a break and admiring the landscape. She asked permission, trying not to sound begging and pathetic, and to her great surprise she didn’t object. Feeling light and a little thrilled by her success she hopped in the opposite direction again to reach the campfire where she had seen Javier. On her way she walked past Hosea, seated at the round table and reading a book.  
“Why so happy, Miss Emily?” he asked as he noticed her big smile.  
“I’m going to town!” she rejoiced.  
“To do what?”  
“Explore!”  
Javier was sharping a little tiny knife when Emily reached him, and she got curious, so first of all she asked him what use might have such a small knife.  
“It’s a throwing knife” he answered.  
“You mean you throw it to people?”  
Javier shrugged.   
“Of course. Erm… I wanted to ask you, would you come with us in town? The girls and I wanted to have a look around.”  
“Just me and the four of you?”  
“Do you need someone else? I was about to ask Charles.”  
“Go ask him. I’ll get the wagon ready” he said standing up.

...

The girl smiled at him and her eyes sparkled.   
“Thank you, Javier. You’re really kind” she said with her light and childish voice. Then, she leaned forward and left a soft kiss on his cheek.  
Javier watched at her slim figure as she walked away, feeling the piece of skin she had touched itching slightly. She had called him kind. People used to call him in many ways, but kind, never. She was crazy, no doubt about that, and naive, and quirky, but she was also the sweetest thing he had ever seen, and he couldn’t not think of her in the most innocent way because every other kind of thought, felt wrong.   
He took a couple of horses and tied them to a wagon, then he hopped in the back and waited for the rest of them to come. He heard them before he saw them. They were loud. Well, they were girls. That was going to be an adventure.  
“Come on brother” he said to Charles as they both climbed at the leading place.  
On the road to Valentine they listened quietly to the girls’ conversation, smiling or chuckling every now and then. They were planning their time in town. Karen and Tilly wanted to go find some money, the new girl insisted for exploring the surroundings.   
“We’ll split up then. Charles, you go with Karen and Tilly at the saloon. I’m coming with you two. How does it sound?” asked Javier.  
“Good” answered Mary-Beth.  
“Do you think we should have asked Molly to come with us? Or Abigail maybe?” asked the new girl.  
“Abigail would never leave Jack behind. Miss O’Shea fancies herself a society woman, she would’t have come” said Tilly.   
“What do you mean she fancies herself a society woman?”  
“She believes she’s better than us because she’s with Dutch” replied Mary-Beth.  
“Are they a couple?”  
“Ah-ah” affirmed Tilly.  
“So there are: Dutch and Molly, Abigail and John… some other couple?”  
“Karen waits for Sean to come back” said Mary-Beth.  
“If he’s still alive” murmured Karen lowering her eyes.  
She missed that little piece of shit. She loved him, deep deep deep inside. She had never told him, and in case he was going to show up again, she had no intention to say it anyway, it would be too much for his already pompous ego.

...

“What about you girls?” asked Emily avoiding an embarrassing and sad silence.  
“Us? With someone in camp?” asked Tilly, but her question was clearly rhetoric.  
“Why not? I mean…”  
Emily nodded towards Javier and Charles’s backs. The two girls shook their heads frowning slightly.  
“Okay, so… everybody else is free?” she asked, but in her mind there was only one person she wanted to know about.  
“Hosea had a wife once. She died long time ago, even before some of us were in the group” said Mary-Beth.  
“And Arthur had that girl. What was her name?” asked Karen.  
Emily’s heart lost a beat.  
“Mary. I’ve never liked her” said Mary-Beth.  
“W-why?” asked Emily trying to hide her disappointment.  
“I think she left Arthur because she thinks to be better than him. She doesn’t deserve him.”  
Emily felt immediately better. It was an old story, something of the past. And she had left him, so there was no chance for her return.  
“What about you?” Tilly asked her.  
“I had a boyfriend. We broke up some time ago because he left Saint Denis for work. I have no idea of what he’s doing now.”  
“Couldn’t you go with him?” asked Mary-Beth.  
“And leave my family and my job? For him? No, he wasn’t worth it.”  
“Didn’t you love him?”  
“Well, yes, but not that kind of love that makes you leave everything to follow him.”  
“Then it wasn’t love.”  
Mary-Beth’s statement outraged Emily. Of course it was love. She had loved him. Or not? If that wasn’t love, what was?

...

Valentine was quieter that day. There were definitely fewer people wandering in the big muddy street and that was perfect according to Javier: fewer people meant fewer possibilities to be recognized, targeted or disturbed. They left the wagon where they could keep an eye on it while they had a look around and then they split: Charles went with Karen and Tilly at the saloon, while Javier, Mary-Beth and Emily walked past it.  
“I need to stop by the Gunsmith. You want to wait here or…” he said as he saw the big sign painted on the top of the building.  
“No, no, we come with you. I’m here for this” replied the new girl.  
They crossed the street and entered the blu house. The store was poorly stocked with gun’s variety, but Javier didn’t mind it, he was there for a problem with one of his pistols and wasted no time in asking the shop-owner.  
“Do you clean your weapon regularly?” he asked.  
“Of course.”  
“Then, it can be due to the wear. You can buy a single piece or if you are interested we have a fine supply of new Cattleman Revolvers, sir. They came the other day directly from Saint Denis.”  
“I’ll take the single piece.”  
“As you wish, sir.”  
While the shop-owner walked in the other room, Javier turned around to watch the new girl admiring a display cabinet full of Lancasters.  
“I thought you was scared of guns” he said making her turn around.  
“I am, when someone holds one. Here displayed and closed up, no.”  
“Is there something else I can provide for you, sir? A new rifle maybe? A shotgun?” asked the owner coming back with the new piece in his hand.  
“What’s the difference between a rifle and a shotgun?” asked Emily walking closer to the counter.  
“Well, there are plenty of differences, Miss. The most important is that a rifle can shoot farther and with more precision than a shotgun, thanks to the little grooves of the bore.”  
“Wow, it’s fascinating. What’s the most accurate rifle you’ve got?” she asked laying her elbows on the counter.  
“The Carcano Sniper Rifle. This one” he replied pointing to a big firearm inside a cabinet. w“It can hit a target at a great distance without making the bullet lose it’s power.”  
“For being afraid of guns you’re quite interested” joked Javier taking out his money to pay the man.  
“Hey, I’m just curious. It’s always good to learn something new. Thank you, Mister. Have a good day” she said to the man before she followed Javier outside.  
“So, what you want to do now?” he asked as soon as the three of them walked out of the store.  
“I don’t know. Just let’s look inside the other stores, I’m really curious to know how they’re like.”  
Javier sighed thinking that that trip to town was going to be useless, but he followed her anyway when she crossed the road and aimed for the doctor. They walked inside and just like before the new girl started looking around with that admiring expression of hers, just like she had never seen an apothecary before. She watched carefully all the ingredients, medicines and tools displayed in the cabinet behind the counter and from now and then she asked something to the doctor.  
“Is this real laudanum?”  
“Yes, Miss.”  
“You know it is addictive, don’t you? It’s like a drug.”  
“Yes, Miss, but with a proper dosage the addiction can be avoided.”  
“If you say so” Javier heard her murmur and it made him chuckle.   
They were waiting patiently for her to finish her little tour when the door behind them opened and made the little bell above it jingle. Two men came inside, and from their look Javier was sure they weren’t there for some laudanum. And in fact, they exchanged a look with the doctor who excused himself and went to the other room followed by the two.   
Javier took a couple of steps towards the door, acting indifferent but studying the two figures and the doctor as they reached another heavy iron door in the back of the other room. The doctor knocked and a couple of eyes showed up from a little window. Then, from the other side they opened and let the two men inside. Javier turned around and pretended to look at something on the table as the doctor came back.  
“Hey, what do you think he has back there?” whispered the new girl walking closer to him.  
Javier narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She had noticed the two men, too. How could it be? She was clumsy and distracted, she wasn’t paying attention and she had no idea how to find an illegal activity, and that one was clearly some kind of illegal practice the doctor was running.  
“I don’t know. Something illegal, it seems. There could be some money. Maybe we’ll take a look” he replied.  
“Do you want to do it now?”  
“No, not now. Let’s go.”

...

They walked out of the building and decided to go to the saloon to meet the others. Charles was drinking at the bar, Karen was upstairs trying to fool a poor idiot to steal from him, Tilly was at the general store to buy something.   
“So, have you found something interesting?” asked Emily reaching Charles’s side.  
“No, you?”  
Since she had seen those two men walking inside the apothecary and she had understood something shady was going on there, she was thrilled to bits and couldn’t wait to tell it to someone else.   
“We found an illegal activity or something like that. Javier says we can try to rob it.”  
“We?” asked Charles frowning. “Since when you’ve become a criminal?”  
“Well, technically speaking, the doctor is doing something against the law, so… if we rob him, we’re doing something good. Right?”  
“I guess” murmured Charles and he drank from the little glass he had in his hands.  
Emily had no idea why she had said that. She didn’t believe in what she had said: illegal activity or not, robbing him was wrong. The right thing to do was go to the police… no, the sheriff, and tell him about what they had found out. But robbing him could get them some money, which they needed so desperately.   
“What are you drinking?” she asked to Charles.  
“Whiskey.”  
“Can I try?” she asked and looked at the man behind the bar who with a nod of his head turned around to take a bottle.  
“You never had whiskey?” asked Charles  
“I generally drink beer or cocktails at the parties, but never tried whiskey, no.”  
“Get me one too, while you’re here, buddy” said Javier throwing a coin on the bar.  
“Do you want something, Mary-Beth?” asked Emily.  
“No, thank you. I’m going to check on Karen” she answered and walked towards the stairs that leaded upstairs.  
The barman poured two glasses of amber liquid and served one to Emily and one to Javier who didn’t even look at it before he swallowed it.   
“Are you sure about the job thing?” she asked at the man behind the counter.  
He looked at her in a way that made her understand there was no possibility to get a job there, at least not the job she wanted to get.   
“Okay, okay, sorry. I won’t ask again.”  
Then, she took the little glass and just like she had seen people doing in the movies, put all the content in her mouth and down her throat. Needless to say, Charles had to pat her back and ask her if she was okay when she started coughing hard.  
“Y-yes, I’m fine. Shit, this thing is strong. How can you drink it all the time?”  
“We’re used to it” answered Javier.  
“Hey!”  
The three of them turned around to look at the man approaching the counter.  
“You were here the other day, weren’t you? With the big man with the cowboy hat” he said to Emily.  
“Yes, I was here, why?”  
“Weren’t you looking for a job?”  
Emily exchanged a look with Charles before she answered.  
“Yes.”  
“I’ve got a job for you, honey.”  
“Really?” she asked naively.  
“Right here” he said and he brought a hand to his… private parts.  
Emily was used to stupid boys who played silly with her at school or at work, but no-one, no-one, had ever done something like that. She felt outraged, insulted, shameful and she had to look away as the man started to laugh with his friends.  
“Hey, watch yourself, cabrón” said Javier.  
“What, she’s yours? Sorry, partner, but I don’t believe such a delicate flower can go with someone like you.”  
“Listen, why don’t you go back to your friends and leave us alone” replied Charles taking a step forward.  
“Easy, big fella. I don’t want no problems. I just want to try the little thing here” he said with a nod towards Emily, who in the meantime had lowered her head so much that she was looking at the tip of her boots.  
The men in the room laughed again and she felt her eyes sting and the shame running through her body. Then, Charles took her by her shoulders and pushed her away.   
“We wait for you by the wagon” she heard him saying to Javier.  
Just like Arthur had done the day before, he led her out of the saloon and from there they reached the wagon.  
“Are you okay?” asked Charles very kindly.  
Emily nodded, but she dried a tear from her eye and Charles didn’t miss it.  
“Don’t listen to them. There are always people like that in the world. You have to be strong and don’t mind what they say.”  
Emily nodded again, as the tears started running uncontrollably. She din’t want to cry, to appear weak, but yet she couldn’t stop herself from doing it. Charles patted her on the shoulder and for her that was the go-ahead: she rounded his waist with her arms and hided her face in his chest.  
Charles was surprised by the contact, but he didn’t withdraw. How could she be like that? He had never met someone so naive. Life was hard, the world was cruel and there was no escape for anyone from becoming cold, mean and heartless. So either she had lived all her life closed inside a room, or she was… Charles felt bad by thinking that, but she was a little dumb.  
Tilly was the first who came back from the store and she helped Emily in recovering from the bad experience. Then, the others showed up and they all got on the wagon and rode back to camp.   
That was the second trip to Valentine and again Emily couldn’t not think that she didn’t like that place. It stank of shit, it was full of assholes and there was nothing interesting.  
When they arrived, she decided to take something sweet from the kitchen to cheer herself up a little and reached Mr. Pearson who, noticing her sad face, decided to give her a chocolate bar.  
She thanked him and giving it a bite she walked towards the rest of the camp passing in front of Hosea and Arthur seated at the same round table.  
“So, how was Valentine?” asked the former.  
Emily, looked first at him and then at Arthur.  
“You were right” she said, fixing her eyes on Mr. Morgan’s face. “That saloon is no place for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> So, I hope you now understand what I mean when I talk about the difference between a girl in 1899 and a girl today. Never mind my protagonist, she's a bit naive - when I say a bit I mean A LOT - but still it seems there is an abyss between her and the other girls. 
> 
> I imagined Emily like someone who watches a lot of TV so the fact that she understands what's going on at the doctor's is due to that. At the beginning I didn't want it to be a story with action, but I've changed my mind considering the development it has to make.
> 
> Hope you liked it :)


	7. Something acceptable

That morning Emily woke up with an unusual heartbeat and kept feeling that way until Mr. Morgan announced he was leaving. She still couldn’t understand what attraction had that kind of wandering: he didn’t even visit towns, he just roamed in the countryside, camped among the mud and weeds, and spent a lot of time on his horse. Without considering how dangerous it was: he had no mobile phone - of course in 1899 they didn’t exist yet - and if something had happened, if his horse had sprained his ankle, if he had fallen in a pit, if someone had attacked him, if the law had caught him eventually, they would have never known.   
In the end she went to say goodbye, with a long face that made her look like a child who hasn’t received her favorite toy from Santa Clause.   
Fortunately for her, over the next days she would have had a lot to think about: Miss Grimshaw kept her busy for some other little job; she had started to practice with Charles how to calm a horse, how to read its physical signs, how to mount and dismount, and how to take care of it; Jack asked for her everyday and she had to come up with a couple of different games to play; and then there was that illegal practice by the doctor in Valentine which intrigued her, and from time to time she went looking for Javier to know if he had found out something new.  
One day, it was a cloudy day, with those heavy dark clouds that make you understand the rain might come every moment, Emily was in the kitchen, washing the plates and chatting with Mrs. Adler. She was still grieving for her husband and she wasn’t really in a talking mood, but Emily tried all she could to make her feel better. She couldn’t fully understand how Sadie was feeling, because she had never lost someone: her only family were her parents and an old uncle, she had lost her grandparents when she was young and didn’t remember much of them.   
But even if it was difficult, she tried to focus Sadie’s attention on something else, asking her what she thought about the camp, about the country, if she wanted to go to town someday with her, everything that could distract her, and from now and then she noticed that Sadie glimpsed at the man tied at the tree right behind the kitchen, who was perfectly visible from where the basin to wash the dishes was. Maybe she new something about him that Emily didn’t.  
“What do you think he has done?” she asked nodding towards the prisoner.  
In those days she had walked many times in front of him, but she had never stopped to talk. She didn’t trust him, even though Mary-Beth had told her he was harmless.   
“Something bad for sure. He’s an O’Driscoll” replied Sadie with a low growling voice full of despise.  
“What does it mean? What is an O’Driscoll?” she asked.  
“They are the sons of bitches who killed my husband.”Emily raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth, moving her eyes from Sadie to the prisoner.  
“You mean… he was there that day?”  
“No, not him. His friends.”  
“So, what has he done? Why is he tied there?”  
“Whatever he’s done, I hope they let him rot there for the rest of his days.”  
Sadie made sure to pronounce those last words loud enough to be heard by the man, who did nothing apart from closing his eyes and taking a sigh.  
Emily was shocked by Sadie’s cruelty. After all, he had nothing to do with her husband’s death, he was part of the same group, that was true, but she couldn’t tar them all with the same brush.   
So, the mystery of the tied man was still chasing her, and when she finished with the dishes, she went looking for Hosea: if someone could unravel her doubts, that was him. She found him near the horses with a big map in his hands, which he was studying carefully. She walked closer and as always she first asked what he was doing, intrigued by that big piece of yellowish paper.  
“It’s a map of some big rare animals. A man at the saloon gave it to me this morning and I was having a look” he said showing her the little animals drawings.  
“Are you going to hunt them?”  
“I’d like to. There are a couple of interesting animals, like this bear here, up the Cumberland Forest. People in town say he’s huge, a real monster. But I need someone to come with me. I’m too old to hunt it on myself.”  
“Oh come on! You can’t be this old” she said kneeling down next to him, and for a moment they looked like a man with his granddaughter seated at his feet ready to hear another story from the past.  
“I’m old enough” he laughed.  
The two of them exchanged a sweet smile.  
“Anyway, I came to ask you about the man you keep as hostage. Sadie told me he is an… O’Driscoll? What does it mean?”  
Hosea took a deep sigh and then started with the long story about the feud between Dutch and Colm O’Driscoll. Luckily, he had nothing better to do, so he educated Emily about the different gangs, who they were, their way of doing things, why they claimed to be different from them. And so Emily finally had the answer to the presence of so many girls, a child and even the reverend. She learned that everybody was part of that group because Dutch had saved them from a life of misery, or because they had saved Dutch somehow. She also had the certainty that what was written in that little newspaper cutting under Arthur’s tent was true: once they used to steal from the rich to help the poor, but now with so many mouths to feed and the law constantly on their heels, that kind of charity was out of question.  
“So, what has that man done? Why is he tied?” she asked in the end.  
“He’s there for questioning, and without a little persuasion Colm’s boys never speak openly.”  
“Are you telling me that he’s probably done nothing? And you’re keeping him in that conditions anyway?”  
Emily felt sorry. She felt sorry because in the past week she could have helped that man, bring him the water he asked, exchange a few words with him to make him feel better, talk with Dutch and try to find another solution, but she didn’t because she had fallen under the spell of prejudice and stereotype, something that she had always sweared not to do.  
“That’s barbaric” she whispered, but she was talking about the other’s behavior as much as hers.   
“It’s necessary. If he runs back to his friends and gives away our position, we’re all dead.”  
She left Hosea and reached Charles seated on a small footstool next to the fire, not the one at the centre of camp, where they used to sit and eat, but the external one, the one they called ‘scout fire' for the people on guard duty. He had told her to reach him there every day around eleven o’clock for their lesson.  
Among all the people in camp, Charles was the most patient, generous and hard-working of them all, but because of his robustness was also considered one of the most dangerous. Emily had tried to think of him in those terms, imagining how fierce he had to be with his enemies, with that stoic expression of his, but then he opened his mouth and a calm and reassuring voice came out. No, it was impossible to think of him as a bad man.  
“Hi, Charles. I’m ready” she said walking closer.  
“You better change your clothes before. Put on them jeans you have.”  
“W-why?”  
“You need to be more comfortable this time, we’re going out.”  
Out? Did he mean out of camp? At last! She hadn’t put a foot out of that camp since Arthur had left. Due to the fact that she still wasn’t able to ride a horse and that she couldn’t take a wagon if not in the presence of a man, she hadn’t had the audacity to ask anyone in camp to accompany her again. Besides, the idea of Valentine, with its stink, its muck and its rude citizens, wasn’t appealing.   
Emily didn’t inquire further on the matter of leaving camp and walked to her tent where she changed her skirt with her jeans. Then, she went back to Charles feeling incredibly nervous but thrilled at the same time. She still hadn’t acquired a good familiarity with horses: she was more confident in touching them and mounting and dismounting, but far from being ready to ride.   
Charles made her mount on Taima and then he took the reins, walking out of camp and thought the wood. When they reached a plain a little out of the woods, Charles gave her the reins and told her how to give Taima the commands: walk, speed up, slow down, turn left or right, and stop. He told her she needed to give a little whip of the reins and a kick with the heels to make her move, and so she did.  
“Now stay calm. Horses can sense fear or insecurity, you have to show her who is in command.”  
“In command, yes. I-I don’t really feel like I’m commanding her.”  
“But you are. Come on, make her walk in a circle, all around me.”  
The lesson went on for a while. With every circle, Emily felt more and more secure on the saddle and her movements where smoother. When Charles saw she was making some progress, he thought it was enough for the day and they finally headed back.  
“When do you think I’ll be ready to go on my own?” she asked.  
“It’s hard to say. You’re getting better, but you still have a lot to learn. It’s easy to control a horse when it’s calm, the hard part is control it when it gets skittish.”  
“They truly are the most stupid animals in the world. How it comes they are so big and strong and yet afraid of their own shadow?”  
“Instinct to survive.”  
“I guess. Anyway, thank you, Charles. For all you’re doing, for teaching me. You’re really kind. You all are. Are you sure you are criminals?”  
“So says the bounty on our heads.”  
“I still don’t get you. Why don’t you take some money from a bank and buy some land? It would be far much easier. You all make a great group.”  
“When we don’t turn one against the other.”  
“Yeah, well… every family has its flaws.”  
Charles’s words echoed in her head for a while, about the bounty on their heads, and she wondered what they could have possibly done. Hosea had told her that Dutch had killed a girl, but she still couldn’t believe it: looking at them, at their faces, she couldn’t think they were capable of killing someone, she didn’t want to believe it, she didn’t want to think of them as murderers, not Hosea, not Charles, and especially not Arthur.  
She was brought back to reality by Lenny, who shouted a “who’s there” when they reached the camp.  
Emily decided to change her clothes again to avoid her jeans, her precious only pair of jeans, to get dirty, so she wore the brown skirt again, before she went looking for Javier. That was the only thing she could do, walk around and annoy people with questions, and sometimes with simply her presence.   
She found him seated at a table polishing a gun and she took a little sigh before approaching him: why they had to keep always those things in their hands? Walking closer she also noticed he had changed his clothes too and now he was wearing a big grey Mexican-style hat.   
“If I had a doubt about your provenience before, now I can’t be mistaken” she joked sitting on the table and catching his attention.   
“Before you ask me again, yes, I’ve been back to Valentine and had a look” he said.  
Emily laughed at his annoyed tone. That poor man was right, she had been asking him about the doctor almost everyday, sometimes even more than once at day.   
“What did you find?” she asked.  
He put down the gun and looked at her right in the eye.   
“There is another iron door in the back of the building, just like the one on the inside. This means we can’t get in from the back, we need to convince the doctor to open the door for us.”  
“Well, that seems easy enough. You just have to make him open the door, take the money and leave.”  
“It’s not that easy” Javier chuckled.  
“Why not?”  
“First of all, we don’t know how many men there are behind that door. Second, the sheriff’s office if right beside the doctor’s, and if he should hear something’s wrong and comes checking, I’m a dead man.”  
“So, we need a plan of attack” she said as she felt a thrill run down her back and suddenly she was so excited she could barely sit still on the table.

...

Javier watched her carefully: her face had acquired an unusual glow and her eyes were sparkling with childish enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure she was understanding how hard and dangerous it was. Planning a robbery was no game, but at the same time her presence there was a great impulse for him, and he couldn’t understand why.   
“Let’s say we get rid of the sheriff, do you think you can hold off the doctor and all the men behind that door?” she asked.  
“If I take the doctor as hostage, yes, I reckon killing three or four men won’t be a problem.”  
“Killing?”  
Their eyes met and it was at that moment that Javier had the certainty that she had no idea of what they were going towards. Did she really think that was some kind of game?  
“How do you expect me to hold off all the men inside there without killing them?” he asked.  
“I don’t know but please don’t kill them” she complained.  
“What if they shoot first?”  
“Well… in that case you can… defend yourself, I think. But not the doctor, please. He’s innocent of all of this. I mean, he has an illegal activity, but he’s still a doctor, he helps people.”  
“What if he recognizes me and gives my identity to the sheriff?”  
She seemed to think deeply about it, then, just like she had received the enlightenment she looked at him and said: “do you really think he’s going to the sheriff and tell him somebody robbed his illegal business?”  
He had to admit it made perfect sense. Javier took a deep sigh looking straight at her and her big sweet eyes before he gave in. Yes, the man was a healer, an important figure for the town, that was the only reason why he wasn’t going to kill him.   
“So, for the sheriff, I might have an idea” she said in the end.

...

The plan was established, they all knew what they had to do, now the problem was put it into practice. Emily was proud of her ideas, years and years of thriller movies and crime novels had taught her how to plan a robbery, how to create a diversion, and most of all that you must always have a plan B.   
Even though she kept saying to herself that steal to other criminals wasn’t a real crime, she knew in her heart that it was an excuse, and she couldn’t get out of her head the idea that what they were doing was wrong. But at the same time the thought of a crime, of doing something that shouldn’t be done, excited her like a child at the sight of a playground, and she was both ashamed and afraid of that feeling. Was she turning into a criminal? One of those people who like doing bad things?  
She leant her back against the wood of the building, right next to the door of the saloon, and waited patiently for Bill to come.  
It was too late now for a rethinking: here goes nothing.  
They had chosen Bill for the part of the drunk surly brawler, the perfect man according to Javier. He would put on a fight at the saloon and Emily was the one responsible of calling the attention of the sheriff to said fight, while Javier had to collect the money.   
The second saloon of Valentine wasn’t as big as the Smithfield, but Emily had sweared she wasn’t going to put another foot inside that terrible place. Besides, that one had also fewer customers, but definitely drunker, which was perfect for Bill to start a brawl without making too much an effort.   
He showed up from the end of the street, sitting astride on his huge brown horse that he stopped at the post. He slowly got down and adjusted his pants with an overdramatic attitude before he tied the animal and with a heavy and swinging walk he reached the porch.  
“Miss” he said touching the brim of his hat.  
Emily nodded to him just like they didn’t know each other. That was part of the plan. He got inside and asked for a whiskey with an unnecessary loud voice. She shook her head deploring the man’s acting skills, but it turned out his fake high tone helped their cause because someone complained about him and after an exchange of insults, Emily heard exactly what she needed: men punching each other.  
Without wasting time she ran down the steps of the porch and on the muddy street to reach the sheriff’s office. With every step her boots dipped in the mud and in her mind she blessed whoever had invented the asphalt.  
Javier looked at her as she reached the sheriff’s door and walked inside. He was standing right around the corner of the doctor’s building, checking the door for unusual movements or patients. No-one. That day the apothecary had no customers, which was perfect. If everybody had done their part well, and if Bill hadn’t caused any trouble, that job was going to be a success.  
“Sheriff, I need your help, there’s a fight at the saloon” said Emily walking inside the poorly lit room.  
There, there were two men dressed more or less in the same way and she had no idea who of them was the sheriff, so after she said the words she moved her eyes from one to the other hoping they wouldn’t notice her ignorance about sheriffs.  
“Again? This town is a nightmare” said the man seated behind the desk, “which one?”  
“Keane’s” Emily answered readily.  
“George, go check it” he ordered to the other man.  
Emily needed two seconds to understand what was happening: the sheriff was sending the deputy, that way he didn’t have to lift his ass from the chair, which was exactly what she wanted him to do.  
“No” she exclaimed making both of them look at her.  
“They have guns, sheriff, and they seem determined to use them. I think it’s better if you go check personally” she lied.  
He brought a hand to his face to rub his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up.  
“Okay, let’s go.”  
As soon as she walked out, followed by the two men, Javier turned the corner of the building, gave a look around making sure no-one was watching him and raised his bandana on his face. With that and the large hat he hoped not to be identified by the doctor.  
“Don’t do anything stupid, friend. I just want to take a look at the room on the back” he said raising his handgun to the doctor’s chest.   
“Sir, please, you don’t want to get involved with them, I-I promise you.”  
“Let me choose who I want to get involved with. Now open the door.”  
“Okay… okay.”  
Emily turned her head for a second and glanced at the apothecary wondering how Javier was doing. In her heart she hoped he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Her friend, her kind Mexican friend, who kills someone in cold blood. The idea was extremely troubling for her.  
“How many men are we talking about, Miss?” asked the deputy.  
“Erm, two or three. They seemed quite dangerous.”  
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them.”  
“No doubt.”  
Javier followed the doctor until they reached the heavy iron door. He laid his back on the wall right next to it and with his gun still pointed at the man’s chest he made a brief nod of his head. The doctor knocked.  
“Hey, i-it’s me. I-I’ve brought you fellers some food and whiskey” he said.  
Javier heard the little window opening and flattened even more against the wall not to be seen.  
“Yeah, it’s only the doc” said someone from the other side and then the sound of steel against steel made him understand it was his moment.  
He grabbed the man from behind, pointing the gun to his head and pushed him inside the room among the confused expressions of four people.  
When they reached the saloon, Emily let the sheriff and the deputy walk inside and deal with Bill and the other two drunkards, while she stopped on the porch waiting to see Javier in the distance telling her he was done.  
“Hey, stop! Stop it right now! What are you doing?” she heard the sheriff shouting.  
“This little piece of shit here was insulting me, I just came for a drink!” replied Bill.   
“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, you big asshole!”  
Another struggle started just in time when Emily heard a series of shots, one after the other, in the distance, and she imagined them coming from the doctor’s office. She moved her eyes from the men inside the saloon to the road, but thanks to the noise they were making, the sheriff and his deputy hadn’t heard the gunfire. She couldn’t tell the same about the people out in the street, who started looking around them suspiciously.   
Without wasting any more time, conscious that someone had heard the noise of his gun, Javier let the doctor go and started collecting all the money from the table at the centre of the room. Then, he looked inside the safety boxes, the crates, under the mattress, all under the shocked look of the doctor who hadn’t moved from where Javier had left him.  
“You won’t say a thing, right?” he asked menacingly.  
“Oh, n-no sir. Y-you’ve liberated me. T-they were awful, they were forcing me to do this.”  
“Good, happy to help.”  
After he took the last wad of cash, he walked to the back door, opened it and went outside.  
“Okay, now go, and I don’t want to see your ugly faces ever again, is that clear! Or next time I’ll lock you all up for the rest of your pathetic lives!” said the sheriff kicking the three men out of the door.  
Emily gave a last look down the road where Javier was waving at her before she turned around to smile at the sheriff and the deputy.  
“Thank you, I was scared to death they could have killed each other” she said.  
“Nothing to be scared about, Miss. These things always end with a couple of bruises and a broken nose, nothing more. Anyway, you better stay away from saloons, they’re not a place for a lady” replied the sheriff walking away.  
Emily reached Bill, next to his horse, and whispered “done” before she walked down the road again to reach Javier who had left his horse behind the church. When she saw him in the distance, waiting for her with a cigarette between his lips, she couldn’t restrain her enthusiasm anymore and ran in his direction jumping around and radiating excitement.  
“So, how much? How much?” she asked with a jiggling laugh.  
“Shh quiet. I don’t know, I didn’t count them. Come on, let’s head back to camp.”  
“How’s the doctor?”  
“Still alive, but I can’t say the same about the four assholes in the room” he replied taking her form her waist and making her sit on the back of Boaz.   
“Were they armed?” she asked with a little less enthusiasm.  
“Yes, and they were forcing the doctor to run the illegal poker game. He was the victim of all of that” he answered mounting up.

...

Unexpectedly, her reaction to those people death wasn’t as terrible as she imagined it to be, but she still couldn’t believe Javier had done it: the man right in front of her, to whose waist she was grabbing not to fall from the horse, had just killed four people. She was both intrigued and scared by him at that moment: what if he was one of those who enjoyed violence?  
“How does it feel? When you kill someone?” she asked.  
Javier didn’t answer immediately, he thought a little about it first. How did he feel when he killed a man? He felt nothing. He was aware that there were some people in the world who liked killing, who felt powerful by doing it, and other people who felt awful, but for him it was just a matter of survival. If the man who was facing him was a threat for his life, he had to kill him. Only once he had allowed his emotions to take over and he had paid the bitter price for that.  
“It’s not the act of killing itself that makes you feel something, but the reason why you’re doing it” he explained.  
“There is no valid reason for killing someone” she stated.  
“Oh no, every reason is good for killing someone, you just have to decide if that reason is good enough for you.”  
“If you put it that way, everyone could kill anybody in the world.”  
“And isn’t it exactly what happens?”  
“I disagree. What you do is acting like God, you have no right to do that.”  
“But if I hadn’t killed those men, now we wouldn’t have the money to buy supplies for the camp.”  
Emily huffed. It was impossible to argue with him, it was a tricky matter and he was both wrong and right, but what he had said made her think about something else.  
“What about Dutch on that ferry? What good reason did he have to kill that girl?”  
“He… we were up against the wall, our lives were in danger.”  
“And killing a girl solved everything?”  
“No y-you… you wasn’t there, you can’t understand.”  
“Whatever you say won’t change my mind. Killing is wrong. Always.”Javier couldn’t understand: she kept saying that killing was wrong, but he had just killed four people to put some food in her belly, how could that be wrong?  
When they reached camp they found Bill dismounting his horse. They parted the money in three exact parts and Emily found out she had gained twenty-five dollars and forty-five cents. Finally she had her own money and with it a part of her freedom, but to gain that freedom she had had to sentence to death someone else.   
Javier had said they weren’t good people, that they were coercing the doctor to give them the room for their affairs and obliging him to keep his mouth shut, and this, added to the fact that they needed that money for the supplies, made her feel a little less sorry for their death. Maybe what they had done wasn’t good, but at least acceptable.   
“Remember to put some in the box” said Javier before he walked away and he didn’t had to repeat it twice.   
Emily walked to Dutch’s tent where she found Miss O’Shea writing something on a paper.   
“Hi Molly” she said and walked all around the tent to reach the barrel with the box.  
“Hi, how are you?” Molly asked politely.  
“Actually, I’m pretty good. Look at this!” she exclaimed showing her the money.  
“We’ve robbed an illegal poker game.”  
“Good, so now we can make this place better.”  
“What do you mean? Make it better?”  
“Yes, we use the money in the box for supplies and camp improvements. Look” she said standing up and reaching her side.  
“If you go to this page, you can see what everybody thinks it should be done to make this dump a little more livable. And here you have to write your name and what you are leaving in the box.”  
Emily was amazed from how they had thought about everything. On the page of the improvements there were all kind of requests: from chickens, which surely belonged to Pearson, to pelts and covers to make the sleeping spots more comfortable, and there even was a joker named Mac who had written “a castle”, and right after another one named Davey - one of those who had died in the mountains, Emily remembered that - who had written “a brain for my brother”.  
Emily laughed at those puns and then wrote her name on the donation page leaving on the box the spare five dollars and forty-five cents she had.  
“Alright, thank you, Molly. Sorry if I interrupted you. What were you writing by the way?”  
“Oh, nothing, just a stupid poem” she replied.  
“A poem? Can I read it?”  
“It’s not finished.”  
“I don’t mind. Can I?”

...

Molly nodded and let Emily inside her tent, making her sign to sit on the cot by her side before she handed her the poem. She looked at her shyly as the girl ran her eyes on the piece of paper and when she ended her heart gave a slight jump.  
“What do you think?” she asked.  
“It’s great. Is this how it happened? With Dutch?”  
“How do you know that’s Dutch?” she inquired.  
“It’s obvious. So you came here, met him and fell in love with him, but now you feel like you gave him all you could give, and this makes you empty somehow, and this emptiness makes you feel worthless too.”  
Molly kept looking at her with her mouth half open: how could she understand all of that from the poem?   
“How… how can you…”  
“Can I tell you something? Don’t beat yourself up. Your worth doesn’t lie with him, your worth doesn’t lie with anyone but yourself.”  
How? How could that girl so young, so innocent, so naive read inside her mind?   
“You don’t… you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re young, you’re just a child.”  
“Yes, you’re probably right. But I’ve seen too many women in love with men who don’t deserve them not to recognize one.”  
“You know nothing! He loves me and I love him! Go, get out of here!”  
She stood up and looked at Emily with her eyes on fire. She had centered the problem and now Molly felt vulnerable, and this weakness made her angry.   
“Yes, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” she said in a hurry and stood up in turn.  
“But if you… if you want to talk, about anything, I’m here, okay?”  
Molly didn’t answer, she kept looking at Emily with that furrowed brow that hid all her insecurities, and in the end Emily walked out of her tent and away from her.

...

Molly was probably able to hide all those bad feelings from the other people in camp, but she couldn’t hide them from Emily: she was good with emotions, and in reading poetry. However, she had talked too much, again, and she felt mortified for how Molly had treated her. Walking around with the weight of regret on her chest, she ended up in front of her tent where Mary-Beth was still reading and Tilly was washing some clothes.  
“Hello, girls. Do you need help, Tilly?”  
“No, I’m almost done.”  
“Is it still that book? The one with the man who wants to visit the moon?” she asked to Mary-Beth.  
“Ah-ah” she affirmed.   
Emily had soon found out that her books were boring and foolish, but she tried not to point it out to avoid insulting Mary-Beth. Besides, she had only three and she kept reading them again and again.  
“How did the job go?” she asked to Emily.  
“Good, I’ve made some money, so now I can buy you some other book. Something more interesting.”  
“This one is not so bad. You have never wondered what goes on, on the moon?”“What should go on, on the moon? It’s a big cold rock.”  
Mary-Beth widened her eyes.  
“How do you know? You’ve been there?”  
“No, of course not, but other people have.”  
“You mean there’s folks living up there?”  
Emily laughed, but then she saw Mary-Beth’s half hurt half curious face and decided to explain to her what apparently she didn’t know, that the moon couldn’t be colonized because there was no air and that men could only go up there with spaceships and space suits that allowed them to breathe.  
“I’ve never heard of any of that” said Tilly.  
“That’s because you have to wait until 1969 for that to happen.”  
“So much time? We’ll probably never see that” replied a disconsolate Mary-Beth.  
“But I can tell you everything about that, so it’s like you’ve lived that” Emily tried to cheer her up.  
“Hey, what are you talking about?” asked Karen walking closer.  
“The moon!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.  
“Puff, again with your stupid fantasies?”  
“It’s not a fantasy. Emily says we will walk on the moon one day.”  
“Is that so? And how you expect to reach it? Riding a winged unicorn?”  
Emily summoned all her patience and started explaining how Armstrong had been the first man to ever walk on the moon, how space rockets worked - without going into details that even she didn’t know, of course - and especially what gravity was, a new bizarre concept for the three girls.  
“How the hell can you know all these things?” asked Karen who in spite of herself had started to get interested in what she was saying.   
“I learned them, at school.”  
“Are girls allowed to learn these things at school?” asked Tilly.  
“Of course. We learn everything.”  
“That sounds great. Can you bring me with you when you go back? The future looks so much better than now” said Mary-Beth.  
Emily giggled but almost immediately she turned serious.   
“If I’ll ever go back.”

...

The next morning Emily had an insistent itch on her head, and she perfectly knew the reason for that: a week, a week without a shower, a week without touching water. As she walked across the camp to reach Mr. Pearson’s kitchen and take some biscuits, scratching her head vigorously, she wondered how could those people live without washing everyday. It was humanly impossible.   
“Morning, Miss Emily!” thundered Pearson with his big scratchy voice. Emily was getting used to it, he was a sort of morning alarm clock for her.  
“Morning.”  
“Some big plan for today?”  
“Yes, washing” she murmured.  
“Aah nothing better than a good bath.”  
She couldn’t but agree, the only problem was: who she might have asked for a ride in town? Taking a couple of biscuits and with that question buzzing in her head she started walking around camp. Charles was her first choice, he was the one she trusted most there, so she went looking for him. Only after a couple of minutes of empty roaming she learned that he was out hunting, so her choice moved on Lenny.  
“I’m on guard duty. I can’t leave my place.”  
“Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”  
Javier? He was still asleep. He had had the guard turn that night. Uncle? He found an excuse not to lift his ass from the piece of shadow under which he was seated, drinking from his bottle. Dutch? Never. Bill? Emily wanted to bath in water, not in blood. In the end, she thought about Hosea. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him, but she had no other choice, that was becoming a matter of life or death and she couldn’t delay it anymore.  
“Morning, my dear” the man said when she reached him.  
“Morning, Hosea” she murmured and left a slight kiss on his cheek, a habit she had taken in those days and to which Hosea still hadn’t become accustomed.   
“How are you?” he asked a little embarrassed.  
“Fine. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”  
“What do you need?”  
“I…”“Gentlemen, I’m going to Valentine for a little business.”  
Emily turned around when she recognized Mr. Strauss’ voice and she fixed her eyes on the little man with the tiny glasses, walking quickly with his back bent and his ledger tightened to his chest.  
She hadn’t even taken him in consideration, but after all, she didn’t mind with whom she was riding, she just needed someone who brought her to town and then back to camp. She turned again to look at Hosea and said a hasted “never mind” before she ran to Mr. Strauss.  
“Good Morning, Mr. Strauss.”  
“Morning, Miss Richardson.”  
“You said you’re going to town. Do you mind taking me with you?”  
“No, if you can keep the pace.”  
“The pace? Y-you don’t… I thought you were taking a horse.”“I don’t ride horses, Miss, I walk. If that is a problem for you, you can go with someone else.”  
“N-no no, it’s not a problem. I can walk.”“Good. Keep up the pace.”Without a wagon nor a horse, the little path that leaded out of the wood and on the main road seemed endless. Besides, Emily couldn’t fill the time with words because, let’s be honest, what kind of conversation could she have with Strauss? And only when they emerged from the trees she found the courage to ask him something.  
“So, why don’t you ride horses?”   
“I don’t like them.”  
Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had just found something in common with the person she thought to be the most different from her.   
“Oh, well, you know, I don’t like horses, either. I can’t understand why they find them so interesting.”  
“They’re easy and fast transportation.”  
“Yes.”  
Silence fell as they kept walking. Mr. Strauss had spoken the truth, he really had a fast pace, he almost ran with those short and skinny legs and Emily found it really difficult to keep up. For a second she wondered what was he going to do in town, but then she glanced at that ledger he tightened to his chest like a new born and realized that probably he was going there for some debts.  
“Are you going to Valentine to recollect some money?”  
“Lending.”“To whom?”  
“I reckon you’re asking just to make conversation, but if you don’t mind I’d rather keep the names of my clients for myself.”  
“Alright” Emily whispered and lowered her head. She was starting to regret her choice. Hosea would nave been a far better conversation partner.  
“I know what you all think of me” said Mr. Strauss suddenly.  
“Excuse me?”  
“You think that what I do is disgusting, but if you think about it, compared to what other people do, my job is not so terrible. After all I don’t kill, I don’t steal, I don’t do anything which is not inside the limits of the law.”  
Emily kept looking at him with wide eyes asking herself where all that was coming from. She had never questioned his “profession”, she had never spoken about it, nor expressed a judgement to his person. How could she express a judgement on a money lender in a camp of criminals? And, how could the others in camp express a judgement on him? After all, Mr. Strauss was right, they were thieves and murderers, and if they really despised him for the usury, they were a bunch of hypocrites.   
“I don’t think you do anything wrong Mr. Strauss. You lend people money and then ask it back with interests. You’re like a private bank.”  
“I’m glad you are such an open minded type, Miss.”  
“Who knows, maybe with your job you also help some people. If someone is in extreme need of money and you lend them some, you might save their lives.”  
Mr. Strauss looked at her for a moment, a second really, before he fixed his eyes again on the road.  
“I don’t understand you, Miss. You look perfectly sane but at the same time you insist on that deluded story of the time travel.”  
Emily huffed. It was time to try and convince him too. And she tried, for all the way to Valentine she tried convincing Strauss that she wasn’t crazy, but she couldn’t. That man was so firm and attached to his principles that she had to give up.   
They parted when they reached town, with the promise to meet again in front of the general store when they had finished to do what they had to do. Strauss walked down the main road while Emily aimed for the Hotel. Mary-Beth had told her she had to go there for a bath. She climbed the four steps of the porch and walked inside.  
“Morning, Miss. How can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.  
“I’m here for a bath” she said with insecurity.   
“I’ll have it arranged for you” he said and walked down the corridor to his right.   
Emily took the opportunity to look around: the room was rather basic with no paintings on the walls nor carpets on the floor. After all, in a town like that, what kind of luxury could they have?  
“They’re warming the water, Miss. If you want to sit down while you wait” said the man coming back from the corridor and pointing to a chair.  
Emily sat on the green worn out cushion and waited patiently for the water to be warmed and in the mean time she wondered how they were doing it. Maybe making it boil on the fire before pouring it inside the bathtub, just like she had seen many times in the movies?  
It was exactly what they were doing and she found it out only when they let her inside the candle lit room with no windows. The average large bathtub was in the centre, a sort of basin with a mirror stood right beside the door while on the back of the room there was a partition panel for clothes changing. On a little table beside the tub there was a big bar of creamy soap and a brownish sponge, which she was sure she wasn’t going to touch.   
Emily looked around her carefully and then fixed her eyes on the piping hot water. For her all that was awful: wash in a copper bathtub, with a piece of soap that God knows how many people had touched, no towels, no carpets. But she had to do it or she was sure that in a couple of days she would have got fleas.   
Slowly and unsurely she undressed herself and dipped in the water. The lack of other kinds of soaps made her understand that in 1899 people made no distinction between shampoo and body soap, so she took the bar on the table and melted it in the water and, in the end, the general feeling wasn’t as bad as she expected.   
She made sure to wash her hair carefully, who knew when she had had the chance to wash them again, but she tried not to spend too much time just in case Strauss had got bored of waiting for her and had chosen to go away and leave her there. But when she finished, dressed up again in a hurry, quickly gave a look at herself in the mirror, ran outside the room, paid the man his twenty-five cents and walked out of the Hotel, she didn’t find him waiting out of the general store, and that meant he wasn’t done yet. She decided to cross the street and enter the store to have a look and maybe find something interesting. Now that she had her money, she could buy anything she wanted.  
“Hello there. Nice to see you again, Miss” said the owner when he recognized her.  
“And you too, Mister. Do you have any books?”  
“On the top shelf, up there” he said pointing a finger to the corner of the room.  
He really hadn’t a big selection of books and most of them were unknown for Emily, but eventually she found what she was looking for.  
“I’ll take this” she said leaving the little red book on the counter together with a couple of chocolate bars.  
“Tess of the d’Ubervilles. What is this? Some kind of silly romantic novel?”  
“No, it’s the story of a fallen woman who commits murder and in the end she’s hanged” she replied with a little annoyance. Did she look like someone who liked silly romantic novels?  
“Well, not exactly the kind of reading for a lady” he laughed.  
“But it perfectly represents the patriarchal repression that 19th century society had on women and the wrongs of a hierarchical mindset.”The man’s eyes widened and an imperceptible “oh” left his lips, but he hadn’t understood a word she had said.  
“I-is that all?” he asked pointing at her purchases.   
“Yes.”   
She paid for the book and the chocolate and left the store. Right when she stepped outside she saw Mr. Strauss walking down the muddy street with a man following him and gesturing widely with his arms. Emily left the porch and reached the two of them, being careful not to walk too closer: the last thing she wanted was to stick her nose in Strauss’ affairs, but the two of them were talking so loudly she could perfectly hear them even if she had waited on the other side of the street.  
“I have already told you Mr. Downes: you have a week.”  
“B-but Mr. Strauss I have a family, I’m about to lose my house a-and…”  
The man stopped to cough, bending on his knees and grasping Strauss’ arm who withdrew with a disgusted face.   
“P-please, Mr. Strauss. I need some more time. Kindness… kindness will always be repaid. Be kind to me, please.”Strauss tightened his ledger to his chest and looked at the man with no trace of mercy on his face.  
“You have one week” he repeated before he walked away.   
With a sorry glance at the poor man, Emily reached Strauss and the two of them took the road back to camp.   
“These cheap do-gooders are the worst. They believe that because they are benevolent with their neighbor everything is due to them. I have rules in my job, I expect everybody to follow them, with no exceptions.”  
“Aren’t people who do good usually selfless?” asked Emily.  
“I don’t get involved in matters of good and evil. That is a job for priests. All I care about is feed the mouths in camp, and the only thing I’m good at are numbers.”  
Emily thought that he was a little harsh and insensible, but she couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the goal the problem, but the means.   
“You could try and… give him some more time. He looked kind of desperate.”  
“I can’t delay a payment. If something happens and we are forced to flee, I won’t be able to recollect the money. And two weeks are more than an appropriate amount of time to collect thirty-four dollars.”  
Just like it had happened with Javier and Dutch, Emily couldn’t find anything to reply. That man had his way of doing things, all the reasons to do so and no intention to change his mind, which meant that argue with him was impossible.   
The road back was made of scattered questions and long silences, but Emily didn’t mind too much. She was clean, she was smelling of soap, she had brought chocolate and she was in a great mood. Now, following Strauss’ fast pace wasn’t a problem anymore, on the contrary, it was Strauss turn to follow the girl, who was almost running.   
“Alright, thank you for bringing me with you Mr. Strauss” she said when they got to camp.  
“No trouble.”  
Emily ran to her tent where Mary-Beth was reading, as always. Anyway, Emily was surprised to find Tilly reading too. Not that Tilly didn’t like reading, but she preferred to avoid Mary-Beth’s silly stories.  
“You can put down that thing, my friend. I bought you this” said Emily showing her the new book.  
“What is it about?” asked a surprised Mary-Beth taking the book and reading the title.  
“Just read it. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but it will make you understand some things. And there is a love story in the middle.”  
“Have you read it?”   
“A long time ago.”  
“What do you mean ‘a little different’?” asked Tilly.  
“It’s a little… dark sometimes.”  
“Good, I like dark things. Can I read it too?”  
“Sure, you can all read it. I reckon Karen will also like it” replied Emily opening one of the chocolate bars to take a piece.  
“Karen doesn’t like romantic stories” said Mary-Beth.  
“Who said it’s a romantic story? Chocolate?”  
“Yeah, I’ll take some” replied Tilly stretching out a hand.  
“You said there is a love story in the middle” stated Mary-Beth frowning.  
“Ah-ah.”  
“How… how can love not be romantic?”  
“You’ll be surprised.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!  
> I know that part with Molly is a little useless, but I wanted to write something with her and I hadn't many good ideas. I hope I'll come up with something better for her in the next chapters, but Molly is a complex character because she does literary NOTHING in camp.   
> I like to write hated characters - like Strauss - showing their point of view on themselves, it's good to give them the chance to explain their reasons for what they do or for what they are, whether right or not. 
> 
> I made a thorough research for novels published in the 1890s and really there's a lot of stuff, but none of it is something I would suggest Mary-Beth to read! I don't think she would appreciate something like "The Picture of Dorian Gray", and in the end I chose something close but not to close to her world.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked it!
> 
> See you soon!


	8. Let's go home

It was time to go back. Almost two weeks had passed and he was missing them. Arthur was like this: he needed some time on his own, but then, he always came back to his family. And he was also sure they were in desperate need for someone who actually worked in that camp.   
The first he thought about was John. Strange choice, among all the people in camp, to think about the one who had hurt him the most in the past. But John was his friend, his brother, and Arthur couldn’t help but worry about him and wonder if he was recovering from that encounter with the wolves.   
“Hi, you must be John, Abigail’s husband” said Emily approaching the man seated on the rock and looking at the landscape.  
“And you are the crazy lady, the one who comes from the future” he replied turning round.  
“Yes, that’s me” she laughed.  
Emily fixed her eyes on the two big cuts he had on his face which still hadn’t completely healed.  
“That must be painful” she said pointing at her own face to make him understand.  
“Not so much anymore. I’ve got worse.”  
“You know it will leave quite a big scar, don’t you?”  
“I’ve never been a beauty.”  
Emily giggled.  
“Well, if you want I can make you an oil to make it heal faster. We use them a lot in the future, to make scars fade out more easily.”  
John glared at her with a wary expression that Emily couldn’t make out. Was it for the future thing or for the oil?  
“An oil?”  
“Yes, just like a cream, you put it on the scars and they… heal better.”  
“I don’t need no cream, nor oil. I’m a man.”  
“What should that mean?”  
Emily frowned at him when he looked at her again, making it clear that he had to be very careful about what he was about to say.  
“I don’t need these things to heal. I’ll do it myself.”  
Emily crossed her arms on her chest and shook her head.  
“Now I understand what Abigail was talking about.”  
It was John’s time to frown.  
“And what should that mean?” he asked with his angry scratchy voice.  
“Never mind” she sighed. “Listen, I have a lot of spare time and nothing better to do, and it will help your scar after the cuts will close completely. Will you let me help you?”  
John took a deep breath and looked away before he murmured “as you wish”.  
Emily smiled with satisfaction and turned around to walk away.  
“But I can’t promise I will use that thing” he yelled at her back.  
“Oh yes you will” she replied.

...

But if there was someone Arthur really missed, that was Hosea. Hosea with his elders wisdom, his permanent worried expression, his way of talking, able to convince you that the earth was flat. He was a father, a mentor, a good man. Who knows where they would be if it wasn’t for him.  
It was an old recipe Emily’s grandmother had taught to her mother, and her mother had passed it to her, and she had used it after the injury making the scar almost disappear. She knew it was a good remedy. Now she just had to find all the ingredients and she was sure Hosea could help her.  
“Morning Hosea” she said approaching the man still studying the big map with the animals.   
“Morning, dear” he replied raising his head.  
“I have a question for you.”  
“Go ahead.”  
“Where can I find lavender?”  
Hosea frowned, caught off guard by her question.   
“Lavender? Why you need lavender?”  
“It’s for a recipe. Lavender flowers and sunflower oil. It makes scars heal faster.”  
“Didn’t know you had scars.”  
“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for John.”  
“John? Why, now he cares about how he looks?” he laughed.  
“Not really, but it’s a good diversion for me and it will help him. So, this lavender?”  
“Lavender grows on rocks. If I were you I’d look near Valentine, there’s a fairly rocky ground under a headland called Citadel Rock.”  
“You really know what you’re talking about” said Emily surprised by his knowledge about plants.   
“I know my fair share. What else you need?”  
“Sunflower oil. I think I can ask Pearson for that. Thank you, Hosea.”  
“Don’t mention it.”  
As Emily expected, Mr. Pearson had a little tin can with still some oil in it and she asked him to put it aside for her. Now, she needed to go pick up that lavender, but she surely couldn’t go alone, she needed some company, someone who knew the country, and she new exactly who to bring with her. 

...

Arthur wondered if Dutch had finally convinced that O’Driscoll to talk or if that poor bastard was still tied to that tree. How long could a man live without eating or drinking? He reckoned they would have soon found out.  
Emily found her on the back of the kitchen talking with nonetheless than the tied man. She thought she hated him, so why was she talking with him? A change of heart? But walking closer she understood their conversation was nothing pleasant. She was insulting him and in the end, before she stormed out, Sadie spat on the ground at his feet.  
Emily felt sorry for that man, but in spite of it she thought to walk past him to reach Sadie and ask her if she wanted to go with her to take the lavender. Only when she heard the man crying she stopped and turned around to look at him, her stomach clutched by an invisible hand.   
“Hey” she murmured and took a step towards him.  
The man raised his head and looked at her in something like fear mixed with hope.  
“Hi, I’m Emily.”  
The man sniffled but said nothing as he kept looking at her.  
“I’m sorry if I didn’t come earlier, but I had no idea of who you were and I was scared you might be someone dangerous.”  
The man laughed among the tears.  
“Dangerous” he whispered and lowered his head again.   
“W-what’s your name?” asked Emily taking another step forward.  
“K-Kieran.”“They told me you are an… O’Driscoll?”  
“I ain’t no O’Driscoll” he moaned jerking his head up and for a moment Emily could tell he was angry.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. You… why are you bended like that?” she asked noticing the man wasn’t standing properly on his legs.  
“I’ve been tied night and day, I can’t sit. You think I’m comfortable?” he whined.  
“I’m sorry, I-I…”   
Emily felt a great pity for him and she also felt a little ashamed of herself for not caring about that man. But it wasn’t her fault. Everybody there didn’t care about him and the idea that he wasn’t someone worth caring about had seeded in her mind in spite of herself.  
“Here, wait” she whispered and walked about the tree he was against.  
“W-what are you doing?” he asked.  
“I’ll loosen the ropes a little, so you can sit.”  
“Aren’t you afraid they will find it out?”  
Emily thought a little about it. Was she ready to hear Miss Grimshaw yell at her face because she had helped the prisoner? Yes, and no. She didn’t know, but she was too sorry not to help Kieran now.  
“Here, now you can sit, right?”  
The man’s legs gave in and he hit the ground with all his weight. Emily moved to the front again and kneeled by his side.  
“Thank you.”“I’m so sorry I didn’t come before.”  
“Why would you? I’m your enemy.”  
Emily frowned.  
“My enemy? You’ve done nothing to me.”  
“But you are part of this gang. I was part of the one they hate.”  
“I’m not part of this gang. They found me. I come from…”  
Emily fixed her eyes in his and took a moment before she said: “I come from the future.”

...

Arthur brought a hand to his forehead and scratched his head under the hat. He thought that he’d better taken a bath before he showed up in camp or Miss Grimshaw would have drowned him into a barrel full of water while she complained about all the kind of parasites she knew. The idea made him chuckle.  
Emily told Kieran all her story, since the beginning, since that train she had taken two weeks ago to go to work until that morning, and she found out that Kieran was a great conversational partner. He knew how to listen, what questions ask and when ask them, and he didn’t complain about her silver tongue. Moreover, Kieran didn’t question anything she was saying, not even once he said something like “I don’t believe you”, and this intrigued Emily.   
“Can I ask you something?” she asked in the end.  
“Sure.”“Do you believe me?”  
Kiran shrugged.  
“Why shouldn’t I? Are you lying to me?”  
“No, I’m not, but… when I say I come from the future no-one believes me. Not immediately at least.”  
He gave her a small smile and nodded a couple of times.“Everything I say, always, is a lie according to Dutch or Arthur or everybody else here, even if I’m not actually lying. I know what it means when people don’t believe you.”  
Emily smiled to him and regretted not coming to speak with him earlier. He was kind and not at all how she had imagined him to be.  
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”  
Emily jumped at Miss Grimshaw’s shrieking and she just had the time to look at her when she ran closer to her and grabber her arm to make her stand.  
“What have you done?! You weren’t supposed to free him!”  
“I didn’t free him!” answered Emily as Miss Grimshaw lifted her from the ground without breaking a sweat. She was rather very strong or Emily very light.  
“I-I just loosened the ropes a little.”  
Miss Grimshaw grasped her shoulders hard and Emily felt her nails inside her flesh.  
“You must not stay here! You must not speak with him! And you must not loosen the ropes!” she growled looking at Emily right in the eye with a furious glare.  
“He was suffering, I…”  
Emily couldn’t complete her sentence, she couldn’t tell her she didn’t think he was so dangerous after all, that Miss Grimshaw slapped her right on her face. Emily let out a yelp and almost immediately her eyes filled with tears, not much for the pain, but for the anger she was feeling.   
“You’ll never do that again. Am I clear? Or next time you’ll go directly to Dutch. This is not how we do things here, Miss.”  
Then, she walked away, leaving Emily there with her tears and poor Kieran, who in the meantime had stood up again, feeling extremely guilty. 

...

In the end, Arthur’s mind went to the new girl. That wasn’t the first time he had thought about her. In those days her face had appeared many times in the back of his mind and every time he had pushed it away more firmly that the previous. How was she doing? Had she finally accustomed to that way of living, to the people at camp, to that time?   
Emily felt the rage pouring fourth from her heart in a way she had never experienced before. That woman had no right to hit her, it was uncalled for, it was barbaric.   
Keeping a hand on her cheek to hide the rush and her head low to hide the tears, she ran to the other side of camp, to the tent with the three girls under it. Mary-Beth was laying down and reading the book Emily had given her, Tilly and Karen were seated on the boxes and the three of them raised their heads to look at her as she reached them.   
“She hit me! Miss Grimshaw hit me!” she cried with her high pitched voice, the voice she had when she was upset.  
“Nothing new” murmured Karen.  
“Why?” asked Mary-Beth who seemed to be the only one truly concerned.  
“B-because I-I… I loosened Kieran’s ropes to make him sit.”  
“You did what?” exclaimed Tilly.  
“Girl, you’re lucky Miss Grimshaw didn’t kill you” said Karen.  
“Why have you done it?” asked Mary-Beth standing up.  
“I wanted to help him.”  
“You shouldn’t have.”  
“B-but you always give him water.”  
“Water is one thing, loosen the ropes is different.”Emily couldn’t understand why that was such a big problem, she had just let him sit, she hadn’t cut him free.  
“But, why hit me?”  
“Trust me, the alternative is worse” said Karen.  
“What do you mean?” asked Emily, and a little anxiety rose inside her. If a slap was the lesser evil, what was the worst that could have happened.  
“If Dutch finds out he could take your act as a betrayal” whispered Mary-Beth.  
“A… betrayal?”  
“If he thinks you wanted to help the O’Driscoll to run he’ll consider that treason.”  
“But I told you I didn’t want to make him run!”  
Emily sighed in frustration as the three girls kept looking at her.  
“You shouldn’t have done it, Emily” said Tilly in the end.  
She shook her head, incapable to understand them. She had done nothing wrong, that man was completely harmless, just like Mary-Beth had told her. There was nothing wrong in making him a little more comfortable.  
Without a word more she went away. There was only one person with whom she could have had a serious conversation about the matter and that person was Hosea. But when she reached the table where he was seated until some time before, he wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t have to go far to find him, he was in Dutch’s tent and Emily’s knees trembled when she saw them talking. Were they talking about her and what she had done? She was curious but at the same time too scared to walk inside and find out. So, she turned around and walked away as fast as possible.  
She hadn’t forgot about what she had to do, she hadn’t forgot about the lavender and she decided that it would be better for her if she went for a little walk putting some space between her and those people. She walked around for a bit until she found Sadie. She reached her and touched her shoulder to make her turn around.  
“Hi, Sadie. Don’t mind the tears and the red cheek, please. I wanted to ask you if you’d like to come with me for a little walk. I need some lavender and to stay away from …”  
“No need to waste any more breath, I’m not going anywhere with you” she replied with despise.  
“Why? What happened?”  
“I don’t want to have anything to do with a friend of the O’Driscolls.”  
How did she know? Emily asked herself, but she hadn’t noticed that while she was chatting with Kieran, Sadie had spotted them and she hadn’t liked what she had seen.  
“What? Sadie he’s not…”“Oh, you defend him now? You must be great friends. Let me give you an advise: next time just cut the ropes and make him run instead of making a tea party first.”As Sadie said this, she just walked away giving her a look of fire and Emily’s eyes, just like an automatic response, started to get wet again.   
She had no idea where Citadel Rock was and she had no idea of how she would have found the road back to camp, but she wanted to go away from there, away from those crazy people, and their rudeness, and their obsession with the O’Driscolls, for a little time at least. Without thinking too much about reasons and consequences, she stepped inside the wood and left camp, for the first time on her own.   
Those people were so strange, they had such mean reactions to everything she did or said, and then there were all those stupid rules and hierarchy that she had to follow, it made no sense. And, which was the punishment for breaking the rules? For her “betrayal”? Apart from be treated like shit from Sadie and Miss Grimshaw, of course. From Mary-Beth’s tone Emily had understood it wasn’t anything good and she started to fantasize about beheading, hanging, or burning alive, just like witches in the medieval ages. From them she couldn’t expect anything less.

...

The road to Horseshoe Overlook had leaded him through Valentine, where he stopped to wash and have his beard cut, and then south, passing Citadel Rock. He made his horse slow down to a calm and steady pace that gave him the chance to look around at the beautiful country.   
He was almost there, he could already see the wood that covered the camp in the distance, and there, walking on the side of the road with the expression of a lost rabbit, there was the new girl. Her gaze was low and sad but as soon as she heard the horse approaching and looked up, her face lightened and she exclaimed “Arthur” with her little voice.   
“Miss, what are you doing out here?” he asked.  
She suddenly seemed uncertain of what to say.  
“I-I need some lavender and Hosea told me I could find it near Citadel Rock, here near Valentine” she said pointing at the country, but it was evident she had no idea where Citadel Rock was, because she had pointed to the opposite direction.  
“And you’re going there alone?”  
“Erm… they were all… busy. No-one could come with me.”  
She was lying. Why was she lying? He narrowed his eyes and she looked away in embarrassment.  
“Okay, well, I can bring you to Citadel Rock” he offered. In case she was lying and her intention was to go elsewhere she would have declined his offer. And if she wasn’t lying… well, he surely couldn’t leave her out there alone or she would have got lost.  
“Oh, okay” she murmured.  
Arthur reached out a hand and helped her mounting up behind him. He couldn’t not notice she had a far better agility in doing it.   
“You trained in riding with Charles?” he asked as he made Drover turn around and take the road back to Valentine.  
“Everyday. He’s been really kind and patient. I’m a little slow in learning, but he says that soon I’ll be able to go on my own.”  
“And how is it going at camp?”  
“I-I… I don’t know. One day it seems everything is fine and the day after I make something wrong and everybody is angry at me.”  
Arthur laughed.  
“Well, you’re starting to be considered a member of the family then.”  
“What about you? What have you been doing in these days?”  
“Nothing worth telling. Wandering, hunting…”  
“Writing in your diary” she said with a playful tone.  
“Journal.”

...

Emily was so happy he was back, and she was even happier that she had found him right out of camp, and when he had told her to mount up, her heart had made a leap for the joy.  
They took the road opposite to the one she had pointed at, thinking that Citadel Rock was that way, and as they headed to the rocky mountain in the distance they kept talking about this and that.  
“So, why you need to go to Citadel Rock?”  
“I told you, I need some lavender.”  
“Why?”  
“I have to make an oil.”  
There was a pause, just like Arthur was considering if asking more about the oil or not.  
“And so you decided to walk to Citadel Rock alone? Without knowing where it was?” he asked in the end.  
“I told you, they were all busy. And I know exactly were to go.”  
“Right. I don’t believe you one bit.”  
Emily sighed. He was so stubborn and nosy. She didn’t want to talk about it, she had walked out of camp for that reason.  
“Besides, I don’t think they would let you go alone. So my guess is you’re gone without telling anyone. Am I right? Why?”  
Emily didn’t answer: she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having understood her lie and she really didn’t want him to know what she had done. She didn’t want him to judge her, to feel stupid, to be reproached like a child.   
“Miss, why?”  
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay!” she yelled.  
“Whoa whoa. Calm down. Okay, I won’t ask.”  
Citadel Rock was called that way because it was a great pile of rocks that made it look like a stronghold. All the ground around it was covered in rocks and bushes. All that she had to do now was find a lavender bush. It wasn’t hard: lavender makes violet flowers and it’s easy to spot in the distance.   
Emily jumped down the horse and immediately started to take some. She didn’t need much, a fistful was more than enough.  
“So, you want to tell me why you need lavender?” asked Arthur who in the meantime had dismounted his horse and approached her with an awkward dangling.  
“I’ll make an oil which helps the healing of scars.”“Scars? You hurt yourself?”  
“No, it’s not for me. It’s for John.”  
“John?”   
After this question silence fell and Emily rose her gaze on Arthur, noticing he had a puzzled and surprised face.  
“He asked you to make it for him?”  
“No, I offered. He didn’t want to at the beginning, but I convinced him.”“I’m sure you did.”  
He looked around for a second before he walked even closer to her and crossed his arms on his chest, watching her as she took the flowers.  
“So, what else do you need? For this…oil” he asked.   
“Only sunflower oil. Pearson already saved some for me.”  
“You have some sort of recipe?”  
“Of course.”  
“And it helps healing scars?”  
“It helps fresh scars to fade out, yes.”  
“How do you know how to do it?”  
“My mother taught me, when I had the… accident and the surgery left me a bad scar on the knee. The oil made it almost disappear.”  
“What kind of accident?”  
“Mr. Morgan! I thought you didn’t like questions, and yet you don’t stop asking me things!” exclaimed Emily looking at him.  
“I don’t like when people ask me questions.”  
“But you can stick your nose in other people affairs with no problem?”  
He raised his hands in the air as to apologize and Emily laughed. Then, she lifted her skirt and showed him the big scar on her left knee, right under the kneecap.  
“I was six. At that time I still didn’t know how weak I was and played like all the other children, not paying too much attention to anything. I don’t need to explain the details, all you need to know is I fell on my knees. Torn of the side ligament, I needed surgery. You see here, the scar is almost gone.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be. It wasn’t as painful as it sounds. And I was a kid, I immediately forgot.”  
She returned too her flowers picking, but Arthur wasn’t done.  
“What happened in camp? Why you ran?”  
“I didn’t run.”   
“Yes, you did. I’ve grown up with Hosea, I know when someone is lying.”Emily looked at him right in the eye, but she had to look away after a couple of seconds. She didn’t want to tell him. If the others had had those bad reactions to what she had done she could only imagine what Arthur would do.  
“Someone did something to you? Treated you bad?”  
Emily shook her head.  
“You did something?”  
She fixed her eyes on a distant point.  
“What did you do?”  
God, how could he be so good at understanding her?  
“I-I… I’ve loosened Kieran’s ropes.”  
Nothing. She expected screams and curses, but nothing. When she received no answer, Emily looked at him.  
“Who?” he asked.  
“Kieran.”  
He frowned.  
“The O’Driscoll.”  
Now that he had understood, his eyes transformed and he was scary.  
“YOU DID WHAT?” he yelled.  
“I-I didn’t…”  
“YOU FREED THE O’DRISCOLL?”  
Emily took a step back and shrank herself for the fear, becoming nothing more than a bundle of bones.  
“No, I didn’t free him! I loosened the ropes to make him sit on the ground.”  
“Why didn’t you bring him tea while you were there? He’s a prisoner!”  
“I know” she murmured lowering her head.  
“And he could take that opportunity to attack you and run away!”  
“I know.”  
“And if he had told his friends about our position we would all be dead!”  
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”  
Emily’s eyes were drowning with tears that she didn’t even bother to dry. She heard him sighing, but she didn’t look up, feeling ashamed, hurt, stupid. Of course what she had done was bad, he was a prisoner, someone who would do anything to liberate himself, even hurt her if he had to, and it didn’t matter how kind he was, he was still dangerous.   
If you close an animal in a cage and leave him there, starving, that animal will go as far as killing itself just for the sake of set itself free.   
“Listen.”  
Arthur’s voice brought her back to reality. He took a couple of steps in her direction and stopped by her side, but still Emily didn’t look at him  
“You have to stop being so naive. There are dangerous people in this world, in this… time.”  
She jerked her head up and fixed her wet eyes in his. Did he believe her?  
“Maybe you’re not used to this were you come from, but here… here we are hunted and not by a single person. You have to change.”  
“I don’t want to change.”  
“So you’ll die. And all of us with you.”  
Emily smiled in irony. He was exaggerating.  
“I’m not joking” he said taking another step and now he was really close to her, so close she thought she could feel his breath on her shoulder.  
“This is serious. You have to learn how to understand what people are good and what bad, and how to defend yourself.”  
That extreme closeness was making something move inside her, like a tickling in her stomach. It wasn’t the right time to feel like that: he had just yelled at her, made her feel little and dumb, it wasn’t the right time to have those kind of thoughts.“H-how?” she said in a sigh.

...

Loosen the ropes of the O’Driscoll. Why not bringing him food, a blanket, make him sleep under his tent while he was away? That girl was… How couldn’t she see the potential trap? Of course everybody was angry at her back at camp. And what’s more, after the trouble she had caused, she had also left camp without anyone knowing she had done so. She could have met anyone on the road: a thief, a murdered, a rapist, an O’Driscoll.   
They mounted again on Drover and took the road back to camp. Arthur felt her, seated behind him on the horse, as her breathing slowed down and her sobbing became more and more seldom, the sign she was calming down.   
At the passage on the train trails they had to stop for a couple of minutes because right at that moment a train was passing through. The girl looked carefully at it with her big eyes as it made its passage.  
“I’ve always liked trains. Travel in one of those must be wonderful” she said.   
“You’ve travelled in one” stated Arthur.  
“I mean in a real carriage, not in the bloody freight car.”  
“I can assure you it’s nothing special.”  
“For you, maybe. For me it’s a life experience.”  
Arthur shook his head and smiled hitting the spurs and crossing the trails. They were walking quietly, with some rare question followed by short answers.   
They worked good together. Sure, they argued like children sometimes, but that was the beginning of a fine relationship. Nothing romantic of course, she was too young for him, and naive, and good, and kind, and pure. She was too much of everything, and yet not enough.   
So many years had passed, but Arthur had always thought only about one person: she was distant, like a dream or a ghost, but she was there, showing up every now and then and re-claiming her possession of him, whether he wanted it or not.   
Something suspicious distracted him from his thoughts. There were men on the road, right before the crossroad and the path that leaded straight to camp, and they were not simple men.  
“Hey, listen” he whispered to the girl behind him.  
“What?”  
“When I say ‘now’ you jump down from the horse and find a place to hide, okay?”  
“Wait, what? Why?”  
“O’Driscoll” he murmured nodding towards the two men laying their backs against the big rock on the side of the road.  
“Like Kieran?”  
Arthur didn’t listen to her question. The two had noticed their presence and they were looking at them with too much interest.  
“Just do what I said.”  
“Hello folks. Where are you going?” asked one of the men as they blocked the way and forced them to stop.  
“Home” answered Arthur.  
“And where is ‘home’ exactly?”  
“Far from here.”  
They were close, too close to camp to cause all that fuss.   
“Do I know you?” asked the other one.  
“I don’t know, partner, do you know me?”  
He couldn’t shoot them, or the gunfire would attract the law. He had to kill them silently and if possible hide the bodies.  
“Why don’t you come down your horse? Let me give you a closer look.”  
Just what he needed. He slowly dismounted leaving the girl on the back of the horse and approached the two men with his hands up.  
“You too, sweetie, get down” one of the two ordered with a lazy sign of his hand.   
Arthur waited to hear the sound of her feet on the ground and then he acted, fast as lightning. He grabbed the man’s neck and punched him on the nose. Then, he stretched a hand to grab his knife, but at the same time the other one was on him too.   
He let the neck of the first go and focused on the second. The man punched his belly, he murmured a complain, blocked another hand aiming to his jaw and kicked the bastard below the belt, forcing him to kneel over in pain.   
The other man hadn’t given up. He took him from behind, tightening an arm around his neck and stopping his breathing. Arthur tried to nudge him, one, two, three times, but the cocksucker was good in predicting his movements, and the more they stayed in that position, the less air entered Arthur’s lungs.   
The other one was standing up again and from his face Arthur could perfectly tell he wanted to end things. He took the knife from his belt and approached him as his friend kept him still. Arthur tried to kick him away, but eventually he would have reached him, so he had to find another solution. It was against the odds, but at that moment it was the only choice he could make.   
He threw himself on the ground, laying his back against the man who was restraining him. Arthur knew he was big and heavy and that the O’Driscoll couldn’t hold him up. As he fell on his back, the bastard with the knife was on him in a second, pressing the blade against his neck and Arthur, both his arms protecting his throat, kicked him on the legs to make him lose his balance.   
“Put that down, honey.”  
Arthur heard the voice, but he couldn’t see the man, nor the girl.  
“I said, put that…”  
The shot made his heart jump, but it also caused a distraction for the O’Driscoll and so he seized the opportunity. He kicked his leg one more time making him finally lose the balance and rolled him over his back, blocking the armed hand on the ground. Then, Arthur brought his other hand to the O’Driscoll’s throat and tightened, pushing on the ground with all his weight until he felt the unmistakable snap.   
He breathed heavily a couple of times before he stood up and looked at the figure standing on his left. She still had the gun in her hands and her face… she was terrified. Her eyes were wide open and the corners of her mouth had a strange fold, like she had seen a monster or something like that.   
Arthur raised his hand in a pacifying gesture and took a step towards her, but she backed away and let the gun fall on the ground.   
“It’s okay” he murmured.  
She shook her head with force.  
“Don’t worry, Miss. It’s done” he said and walked in her direction, but the more he tried to reach her the more she moved away.  
“N-no, no no no” she whispered.   
He couldn’t understand: was she afraid because she had shot a man, or because he had killed the other one? He took a couple of big steps towards her and finally took her by her shoulders. She was a nervous wreck and she stiffened so hard at his touch Arthur thought she was made of stone.   
“Miss, let’s go back. Let’s go home” he said, but she didn’t move her eyes from the bodies on the ground.  
“Emily.”  
Finally their eyes met and Arthur felt his stomach turn upside-down. Her expression had suddenly changed, all the fear had disappeared from her eyes.  
“Let’s go home.”

...

Her feet had just touched the ground when the struggle began. She ran around the horse to look at them: they were two against one and they had already cornered Arthur and hit him a couple of times. He looked experienced and he was rather strong, but numerically inferior all the same and when one of the two blocked him by his shoulders, she thought she had to do something to help him. But how? She wasn’t strong enough for fighting, nor she had the skills. What did she have?   
She looked around for something she could use, a stick, a rock or something else she could throw, and she started searching the saddle-sacks. Inside the first there were only bottles and vegetables, and unless she wanted to fight them by throwing carrots and beetroots, they weren’t useful.   
It was inside the second sack that she found it: the revolver. She thought about it for a second before she ran again to the men and raised it against them. She wasn’t going to use it, she just wanted to frighten them, tell them to leave him alone.  
Arthur was on the ground, one of the two on him, while the other had just stood up and when she raised the gun, he looked at her and a crooked smile appeared on his face.  
“Put that down, honey.”  
She had no idea how to use that thing, but after years of movies… She pulled the hammer back and moved her finger on the trigger aiming to the man’s chest and hoping that it was charged, or not charged, she had no idea what to hope.  
The man’s expression changed, he lost the smile and he started walking in her direction with a fast and heavy pace. Emily’s heart started beating fast and she felt the panic raising. He was close, too close and if he had got any closer she would have been incapable to stop him.   
“I said, put that…”  
She tightened her eyes in a painful expression and let her finger slip. The jolt of the weapon in her hands forced her to tighten the grip around it and as a reflex she took a couple of steps backwards.  
Other sounds of struggle forced her to open her eyes again and see if Arthur needed more help, but he didn’t: he was on the other man, with his hand on his neck.  
What had she done? She had just shot a man! The thought made her feel so bad that she didn’t move her eyes from Arthur and the other O’Driscoll still brawling, just to avoid looking at the dead man at her feet, until a dull snap made her stomach twist so quickly that she felt sick.   
Arthur stood up and looked at her. She had just shot one of the men and he had broken the neck of the other. They were two murderers! She was suddenly weak and the heavy gun slipped from her hand.  
“It’s okay” murmured Arthur walking closer, but she didn’t want him to and shaking her head she tried to put more distance between her and him. She was scared by him, or by herself, or by the fact that now there was no difference between the two of them. She had robbed the doctor, shot a man, she was a full-fledged criminal.   
“Don’t worry, Miss. It’s done.”  
“N-no, no no no.”  
Arthur was on her in a blink of an eye.  
“Miss, let’s go back. Let’s go home.”  
She had shot a man and he had killed the other one with his bare hands! They were not simple criminals, they were monsters!  
“Emily.”  
The sound of her own name, brought her back to reality. It was the first time that he called her by her name and in spite of all that situation, it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.   
She looked at him and all the fear of him and her and what they had done immediately fell into the background of her mind.   
“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!   
> This morning I completely forgot I had a chapter to publish... I'm sorry.  
> Anyway, hi! How are you? I love this last scene. As I said at the beginning I didn't want to put real action in this story, but I think I will, more and more often, because I need to.   
> I know that maybe the gang's reaction to the "ropes loosening" is a little exaggerated, but I wanted it like that because if you think about it... man, they have a real obsession with the O'Driscolls!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Kudos! <3


	9. Saints and sinners

Emily didn’t think her little runaway would be noticed by someone and only when she and Arthur dismounted the horse she understood how worried and angry people in camp were. Mary-Beth came running and screamed “where were you?”. Right after Miss Grimshaw showed up telling her how disappointed she was by her behavior.   
In a few words: Miss Grimshaw thought her disappearance had something to do with the O’Driscoll thing and ran to tell Dutch and Hosea about it. Both of them weren’t pleased to know what she had done.  
“Well, thank you very much. Really, thank you for your trust and for worrying about me” she murmured to the group of people who had gathered around her for the reproach. Then, moving Tilly aside, she walked away, with her head still full of all the recent events and especially the fact that she had just killed a man.   
She spent the rest of the evening lying down and crying. No-one bothered to go ask her something, but instead they went to Arthur to ask him what had happened. He told the story at least five times that evening, to five different groups of people and so everybody knew about their little terrible adventure. Hosea thought about go and talk to her, but he knew that his apologies were worth nothing. Besides he couldn’t understand the others’s behavior: she had just made a mistake, it wasn’t such a big deal.   
“A mistake that might have cost us our lives, Hosea. And hers first of all” Arthur told him.  
“But it didn’t. History isn’t made of possibilities, but of facts.”  
Arthur grunted and walked away, but he knew Hosea was right when he said everybody was being too tough with that girl.  
The day after, Emily opened her eyes, still puffy because of the crying of the night before. It was still early in the morning and almost nobody was awake yet, so she sneaked among the tents and reached the kitchen where she took some canned peaches. Then, she reached the edge of the cliff and seated on the rock, her rock, to watch the sun rising in the sky.   
“Good morning.”  
Turning her head she exchanged a quick look with Dutch before she fixed her eyes on the landscape again.  
“Quite a fuss you caused yesterday. I think I’ve never seen Miss Grimshaw in such a…”  
“I don’t care about how Miss Grimshaw was because of me” she replied coldly.  
Dutch signed and walked closer until he stopped right by her side, but still she didn’t look at him.  
“Well, you should.”  
“I have apologized.”  
“I’m not talking about apologies. When Miss Grimshaw acts that way is because she is worried about one of her girls, and yesterday she was worried about you.”“She didn’t seem worried, she seemed angry.”  
“Exactly. You’ll soon understand Susan has her own way to show feelings.”  
Emily didn’t know what to think: if what Dutch was saying was true, then those people really cared about her and they were really worried, and Miss Grimshaw most of all. So she forced herself to get over it, trying not to think anymore about Kieran, the slap, the run and the reproaches.   
She finished her peaches and walked to the kitchen. There, Abigail was sipping her coffee with Mrs. Adler and at Emily’s ‘good morning’ the former answered kindly while the latter moved her eyes away and pursed her lips in dislike. Was she still angry at her because of that story?   
“Mr. Pearson you still have that oil for me, don’t you?” she asked as he reached the cook.  
He gave her what she had asked for and then she took an empty jar and the mortar. She brought all the tools and ingredients to the round table, took the lavender she had picked up the day before and put herself to work.   
The process was easy: she had to crush the lavender flowers with the mortar, let them dry in the sun for a couple of days, put them in the jar with the oil and make it cook in the boiling water for one hour.   
She had just began when Hosea walked closer with a cup of coffee. He sat down opposite to her and looked at her as she was working, taking a sip of the dark liquid every now and then.  
“I’ve seen you do it often too” she stated as she crushed the flowers in the mortar. “What do you prepare?”  
“Mostly medical stuff. Like yarrow and ginseng, together they’re great for health.”  
“That’s why you knew where to find the lavender, you have a great knowledge of plants.”  
“I have a discreet knowledge of plants” he chuckled.  
“You are too modest.”  
For all the time they talked, Hosea didn’t mention once Kieran nor her disappearance and Emily was glad of that. All she wanted was to forget that story and she wished she wouldn’t make other mistakes of that kind in the future. She was feeling rather pacific, finally getting over everything that had happened, when something slipped inside her mind, something she hadn’t thought about until that moment and that made her panic.

...

Hosea felt the change in her state of mind and immediately asked a concerned “what’s wrong?”  
“I-I haven’t told you what happened with Arthur” she murmured with a new strange trembling voice.  
Hosea knew what she was talking about and immediately calmed down, took a deep breath and got ready for one of his speeches.   
“He told me. Well, in truth, he told everyone.”  
Her breathing was becoming irregular and that pushed Hosea to stand up and reach her side of the table.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked again keeling down in front of her, but he didn’t need to ask, he knew what she was thinking about.  
“I-I forgot. How could I forget?” she whispered with her eyes lost in the nothingness.  
“About the O’Driscoll?”  
Finally their eyes met. Arthur had told him about their encounter, about the aggression, about Emily shooting the man. It was her first killing, Hosea was aware of that, and she was pretty shocked, so shocked that her mind had erased that memory for a couple of hours.  
“I killed him” she whispered.  
“Yes, you did.”  
There was no point in telling her not to worry, it wouldn’t have had any effect.  
“You killed him, and you did it for a good reason.”  
She frowned at his words, but they also had the desired effect to calm her down.  
“What would have happened if you hadn’t shot him?” he asked.  
She dipped in her thoughts for a second.  
“P-probably he would have hurt me.”  
“He would have killed you, and Arthur right after. You saved his life.”  
“Saved his life” she echoed in another whisper.   
It wasn’t true of course, Arthur would have found a way to get out of that situation. Hosea had seen him fight against four men, so two O’Driscoll were nothing to him, but he needed to make Emily believe that what she had done was necessary, to let her accept it, and he had succeeded.  
He smiled and stood up returning to his chair. She didn’t know he was a perfect liar and had believed him right away, which made him feel a little ashamed, but that was a lie for a good cause. She nodded a couple of times, lost in her thoughts, and then gave him a tiny smile.  
“Thank you, Hosea” she murmured.  
“I just tell the truth” he replied.  
“I think I’ll go to Charles for the riding lesson” she said standing up.  
“Oh, Charles is in town with Javier and Bill.”  
“Really? Well, I guess our lesson is delayed then. I’ll go find something else to do.”

...

Emily found a corner in the kitchen to leave her lavender flowers to sundry and started wandering around camp to find something to do. Hosea’s words had calmed her. She wasn’t proud nor happy of what she had done, but thinking about it, she had done it in order to defend herself and Arthur’s life. Besides, that man was a criminal, part of the gang that had killed Sadie’s husband, he probably deserved to die.  
What about Kieran then? She asked herself. Does he deserve to be tied there in that way? Emily shook her head. It seemed that the more she wanted to send those thoughts away, the more those thoughts came back to her. She had to distract herself.  
She headed to her tent hoping that there she would have found a distraction. Maybe the girls could help her. Only when she got there she found a Mary-Beth, a Tilly and a Karen with long faces, and the air over them was heavy with boredom.  
“What could we do?” asked Emily sitting next to them and assuming their same expression.  
“We might find a job, if we had the chance to go to Valentine” said Karen.  
The said chance soon arrived, when Arthur woke up and decided to bother poor Uncle, busy with his thinking. The four girls listened quietly to their conversation, with a giggling every now and then, and after the two men were done arguing, Karen made them all sign to follow her and she asked Arthur if they could go with him and Uncle.   
“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you?”  
The girls complained about his question and after an exchange of looks Arthur decided to bring them in that rather useless expedition, and in case they had found something… well at least he could call it a day. They quickly got on the wagon and took the road to Valentine.   
“Ladies, sing us a song.”  
Uncle’s request was soon accepted and the three girls started a little tune with a lyric full of double meaning to which Emily could only clap her hands following the rhythm. They had almost reached the train trails when a carriage pulled by two horses had an accident. Uncle used the lumbago excuse and the responsibility to bring the horse that had got loose back to the owner fell on Arthur.  
From their following conversation, Emily understood it wasn’t in their style to help people in need, at least it wasn’t Arthur’s style, who affirmed he had robbed the man if it wasn’t for the presence of four fine girls like them, and it was at that moment that Emily wondered what kind of man Arthur was.  
She knew so little about him and in that little time they had spent together he hadn’t appeared to her as generous as Charles, nor as kind as Hosea. Maybe he was hiding those parts of his personality, or maybe he just wasn’t like Emily had imagined him.  
They leaded the wagon across that town that they knew so well now and stopped it right in front of the stable.  
“Uncle, what are we doing?” asked Arthur jumping down the wagon.  
“Well, we’re gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does: put the women to work.”  
“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman, Uncle” laughed Emily following the three girls down the wagon and on the muddy street.  
“We’ll start at the saloon, ladies” said Karen with a nod to Tilly and Mary-Beth.  
“Oh no, not the saloon, please” whined Emily. She didn’t want to put a foot inside that awful place, the memory of what had happened still fresh in her mind.  
“Don’t you worry, everything like that happens again, I’ll deal with the son of a bitch” said Tilly.  
Emily smiled gratefully, but she didn’t want to go to the saloon anyway.  
“What happened exactly?” asked Arthur, but Emily ignored him. She hadn’t told anybody about that pig she had met and how Charles and Javier had protected her, and she didn’t want to tell it now.  
“Uncle, do you mind if I stay with you?” she asked.  
“Not at all, my dear. We’ll just go to the general store for now. I have to get something there.”  
“Okay ladies. Just pretend we’re in Paris” said Karen walking away with Tilly and Mary-Beth right after her. The latter turned around for a second and waved to Emily who made the same gesture to her.   
Arthur and Uncle headed to the store exchanging puns and provocations and Emily followed them, listening quietly and laughing to herself. Once inside the store the owner recognized Emily and asked her about the book. She replied with a few words but she didn’t want to start a debate with a man who wouldn’t have understood the social impact a book like that had had.   
Uncle took something to drink and eat while they waited for the girls. Arthur took something too, but when he aimed for the counter to pay Emily stood in his way.  
“I’ll pay for you” she said taking the purchases from his hands and leaving them in front of the owner together with a chocolate bar she had taken for herself. “I still owe you for the clothes” she added when Arthur frowned at her.  
“I had forgot. You could have said nothing and get away with it” he chuckled.  
“It wouldn’t be right” she simply said.  
Arthur shook his head and followed her outside. Uncle needed some more time to decide what to buy.  
“So, what do we do?” she asked.  
“I have no idea. Where did you get that money?”  
“I worked” she replied biting her chocolate.  
Arthur raised his eyebrows asking her to explain herself. Emily chuckled and with a nod of her head told him to follow her. She showed him the back of the apothecary and told him about what she and Javier had found out, all the setup with Bill, and the money they had gained.  
“My Lord, you’re becoming a real outlaw, aren’t you?” he laughed in the end as they walked back to the main road.  
“All I’ve been doing is stealing to some criminals and shooting another one, the same things policemen do everyday” she replied as Hosea’s words about the necessity of her actions came back to her mind.  
“So, that’s how you see yourself? As a policemen?” asked Arthur ironically.  
Emily laughed and turned to look at him, but something else caught her attention.  
“Good morning, sheriff” she said stretching out an arm to greet the man under the porch.  
“Oh, morning to you, Miss. How you doing?”  
“Very well, thank you. We’re looking for work.”  
The sheriff frowned, moving his eyes from her to Arthur. He was obviously considering her words.  
“I may have something for your friend, if he’s interested in bounties.”  
Emily and Arthur exchanged a look.  
“Yeah, why not? So I can play the policeman too” he added in a murmur and Emily laughed again at his words. The two of them followed the sheriff inside.  
“George, show the man the poster” he ordered to the deputy getting behind his desk and sitting down.  
The deputy moved his cold skeptic eyes from Arthur to Emily and his face relaxed all at once.   
“Oh, Miss. Good to see you again. Not some other bar fight I hope.”  
“No, don’t worry. Just looking for some work with my friend.”  
“This is your friend?” he asked and looking at Arthur he raised an eyebrow.  
The difference between the two was abysmal: she was tiny, clean, with a kind expression and sweet eyes. He was big, dirty, tough and mean. Their ‘friendship’ was pretty suspicious.   
Emily couldn’t see Arthur’s face because she was right behind him, but she was sure he had glanced at the deputy in a terrible way, because the man immediately looked away in embarrassment and walked towards the wall pointing at a poster.  
“That’s the man. Benedict Allbright” he said.  
“He’s being poisoning folks with his miracle cure from here to Annesburg.”  
“A doctor?” asked Emily walking past Arthur to look at the paper. “It makes no sense. Doctors are good, they are supposed to help people.”  
The deputy chuckled at all that innocence.  
“Things are not always as they should be” he replied.  
“Where can I find him?” asked Arthur taking the poster from the wall.  
“North of here, straight by the gorge. That’s where they saw him last time” the sheriff informed him.  
“You think you can bring him in? The pay is good, but we need him alive, though. I have to make sure the women he widowed get compensated before he swings.”  
Emily looked at the poster and then exchanged a look with Arthur. He didn’t seem convinced.  
“It’s fifty dollars to bring a murderer to justice. It’s a double reward from my point of view” she said with an encouraging smile.  
Arthur snorted and shook his head: she truly had some strange ideas.  
“Well, I’ll see what I can do” he said heading to the door.  
“Thank you, sheriff, for giving my friend this chance” said Emily. “I guess we’ll see each other again soon” she added to the deputy.  
“Miss” he replied with a nod of his head.

...

“See? We have found something! We have found a job!” she exclaimed jumping up and down as soon as they returned to the street.  
“We? I have found the job.”  
She stopped her jumping and looked at him right in the eye.  
“Hey, if it wasn’t for me…”  
“Uncle gave me the idea to take a bounty, that’s the only reason why I followed you inside the sheriff’s.”  
He didn’t know why he was saying those things, to annoy her maybe, to see what had happened if she got angry. The result was one of her funny faces: she opened her mouth of a couple of inches, outraged by his behavior, and Arthur had to turn around to hide a smile.  
“You are terrible! Worst than a child!” she yelled at his back.  
“Oh, now I am the child” he chuckled as he started to walk away.  
There was a pause and for a moment Arthur thought she had started to cry or something like that, but when he turned around he found her standing still in the middle of the road with her arms crossed on her chest.  
“I’ll come with you and take half of the money” she stated.  
“What?” exclaimed Arthur walking back to her.  
“You? A bounty hunter?” he sneered.  
“He’s just a doctor, how dangerous can he be? I’ll help you and take half of the money.”  
Arthur brought a hand to his face rubbing his eyes, but unable to restrain another smile. Was it what he wanted? Did he want her to go with him?  
“How do you think to do that? Uh? You can barely ride a horse and you have no strength to deal with a grown up man.”  
“I can ride a horse, at least… in theory. And you’ll take care of the man. I’ll just help you as I can.”  
“Which is?”   
“I don’t know! We will find something.”  
Arthur didn’t want to argue there, in the middle of the street, with that incredibly stubborn girl, about bounties and money. He thought that it was better if they delayed that conversation.  
“Yeah, alright. For now we better go back to Uncle, he’ll be wondering where we are.”  
They walked back to the general store where they found a dozed off Uncle, with a bottle of whiskey in his hands.  
“Yeah, you’re right. He was just wondering were we were” joked Emily and turning around she walked back again.  
“Where are you going now?” asked Arthur in exasperation.  
“To find something. I didn’t come here to do what I do in camp.”  
They walked in front of all the stores of the town, looking at everything but never stopping. Valentine had nothing of a city, nothing interesting, no attraction, and Emily wondered if that was due to the fact that they were in 1899, or just because there was actually nothing there.  
“You think we can visit some other town someday?” she asked to Arthur.  
“I don’t know. Where are we going?” he complained.  
“Like… I’d like to see Saint Denis. I wonder how it was… how it is, now.”  
“It’s a city, how you expect it to be? Can you tell me where are you going?”  
“Just around.”  
“Just around?”  
“If you want to go, Arthur, go. I know this place, I’ve been here one hundred times already. I know how to move.”  
Arthur sighed but didn’t stop following her. She might know the way but she didn’t know people and how dangerous they could be. He kept her pace fearing she would have never stopped, when she did stop… in front of the gunsmith!  
“What, you want to buy a gun now?” he asked half amazed, half perplexed.  
“No, not really” she said, and walked inside.  
“Hello, Miss. How do you do?” asked the owner.  
“Hi, I wanted to know if you still have those, erm, Cattleman Revolvers you talked about” she asked.  
What was she doing? Did she really want to buy a gun? Why? To protect herself of course. What had happened if she had found another O’Driscoll waiting around the corner just to hurt her or one of her friends? Obviously, she wasn’t thinking about using it, but just own it to scare the shit out of people who bothered her.  
“Yes, Miss, I have them.”  
“Can I see one?”  
“The hell are you doing?” asked Arthur completely shocked.  
As the man made a little bow and walked in the other room, Emily turned to look at Arthur who couldn’t take his wide open eyes from her.  
“What happened to the ‘I don’t like guns’?” he asked.  
“I don’t like them, but I have to defend myself somehow, don’t you think? And, who said I want to use it?”  
“You buy a gun just to show it? That’s stupid.”  
“That’s smart thinking. If people see one, they don’t mess with you.”  
Arthur laughed. He owned definitely more than one, but people messed with him anyway. Or he messed with them?  
The man came back with a shiny brand new revolver that he delivered to Emily’s insecure hands. She took the thing and gripped it, feeling its weight and consistency. It was incredible how something so small and useless when not charged could make her feel so different as she held it: it was like that weapon was giving her new strength, new courage, new certainties. She felt like she could walk down the road but not as a simple citizen, but as the owner of the road, or the entire Valentine.  
Yes, the power of that thing was dangerous, and becoming aware of her own feelings she got scared and immediately put it down on the counter.  
“I’m sorry. I-I can’t” she murmured and ran out of the shop.  
Where was all that boldness coming from? First she had imposed her will on Arthur, then the harsh reply, and finally the terrible idea to buy a gun? What was happening to her?  
“Hey, are you okay?” asked Arthur coming out of the shop with a slight worried face.  
“Yes, I’m sorry, you were right. I shouldn’t even think about buying one of those devilish things.”  
She was back to her senses. It was like Arthur had just seen another girl inside that shop, someone with darker intents, and he couldn’t tell if he liked that one better than the real one.  
“Come, let’s keep walking” he suggested. 

...

Walking was a good way to clear her mind, and so she did. She tried to understand where that crazy idea had come from, but she couldn’t. She was so lost in her thoughts that she understood where she was only when she saw the well-known door of Keane’s saloon.   
“Do you want to drink something?” she asked to Arthur.  
He raised his eyebrows and nodded, but without being absolutely sure about how to interpret her suggestion. They walked in the plain and modest room, with only three customers inside. One was seated at one of the tables, or it is better to say, he was laying on one of the tables, fallen asleep dead drunk - Arthur and Emily didn’t pay much attention to him - but the two at the bar where definitely more interesting.   
One was rather old, and drunk too, while the other, a little younger, with glasses and a big book opened in front of him, looked like some sort of intellectual. Emily followed Arthur to the bar, who ordered a couple of whiskeys tossing a coin on the counter, and in the meantime she listened to the mental conversation the two men were having.  
“Oh, this isn’t going very well” moaned the intellectual addressed by the old man as ‘Plato’ with a gesture of desperation.  
“Are you a writer, mister?” asked Emily.  
“If I can call myself so, yes, I’m a writer, and it will be the end of me” he complained.  
“What are you writing about?”  
“Him” he harshly replied, pointing one of his fingers to the old man who now was asleep on the bar.  
“Who’s this?” asked Arthur from behind Emily’s back and turning around she noticed the little glass full of amber liquid just waiting for her.  
“Jim ‘Boy’ Calloway” answered the writer.   
“Who?” asked Emily and Arthur in chorus.  
“The gunslinger. Fastest left-handed draw that ever drew breath.”  
“You ever heard of him?” asked Arthur to Emily who shook her head.  
The man started telling all the great deeds of that unknown famous gunslinger and in the meantime Emily found the courage to swallow her glass of whiskey which, as expected, made her throat burn.  
“Excuse me, mister, but what’s your name?” she asked as she recovered the ability to speak.  
Maybe she knew the man’s name or the title of the book he wanted to write about Jim ‘Boy’ Calloway.  
“Theodore Levin.”  
No, the name told her nothing. He must have been one of those poor deluded who wanted to reach fame with their writing, but that in the end history had sadly forgotten.   
“Sorry, but… I don’t understand. If you hate him so much, why are you waisting your time writing about him?”  
“I wouldn’t hate him if he didn’t make it impossible for me to write this blessed book!”  
Then, just like he received the illumination, he turned around on his stool to looked at the two of them.  
“What?” asked Arthur.  
“I am really sorry to ask, but… will you help me? I am kind of desperate, I’ve been working on this thing for months now and I haven’t took anything out of it.”  
“How?” asked Emily.  
How could they help him? Making up the things he had to write? Trying to take out the informations from Mr. Calloway by force?  
“There’s a whole list of gun fighters” said Levin taking a couple of what looked like photographs from his bag.  
“Legends, every last one. Emmet Granger, Flaco Hernandez, Billy Midnight…”  
Emily took the photos the man gave her, one by one, looking at the mean faces on the black and white paper, but having no idea of who those people where.  
“Black Belle.”  
Emily’s heart lost a beat.  
“What? Black Belle?” she exclaimed.  
“Do you know her?” asked Levin.  
“Of course, she’s a legend among children!”  
“Children?” asked Arthur perplexed.  
“Black Belle in the Forest of Berries. Never heard of it?”  
But Emily stopped right away, her mouth had said too much and now the writer was looking at her suspiciously.  
“Sorry, wrong person” she lied. “Anyway, you want us to find them, and then what?” she asked to divert.  
“Well, ask them about him” he said nodding towards Calloway.   
“And what happens when they don’t… collaborate, let’s say” said Arthur taking another drink.  
Emily hadn’t been looking at him, but she could perfectly tell he had had more than one already.  
“Well, you look like someone with… experience, sir. I don’t think it will be a problem to convince them or… silence them, when necessary.”  
Emily raised her eyebrows. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?  
“Y-you mean…” she started, but Arthur interrupted her.  
“What’s our profit?”  
“Half of the proceeds once the book is published” said the writer without hesitation.  
“Well, I’ll see what I can do, then” replied Arthur heading unexpectedly to the door.  
“Oh, wait” Levin called out. “Get photos” he said handing an old photo-camera to Emily who opened her mouth in amazement.  
“Whoah! This is… I can’t believe it.”  
“And there are notes on the back of those photos, they should tell you where you can find them.”  
“Well, we’ll let you know what we find out, Mr. Levin” said Emily and she shook hands with the man before she and Arthur walked out of the saloon.   
“Black Belle in the Forest of Berries? Really?” asked an ironic Arthur.   
“Hey, it’s not my fault if your ‘legendary gunslingers’ are no-one in the future.”  
“For me they are no-one even now, but I guess that’s what awaits us all: become no-one.”  
Emily was struck by his words, but she couldn’t but agree. As a matter of fact, she had never heard of the Van der Linde gang, nor the O’Driscolls, nor anybody else. And poor Black Belle had moved from being a famous gun fighter, to a children book heroine. What were those lives worth if no-one was going to remember them in the future?

...

While walking back to Uncle, Emily kept studying the little photo-camera. It was lighter than she expected, and smaller too, considering all the articulate device it contained. She asked Arthur if she could keep it, thinking about taking photos of people in camp.   
“Will you bring me with you when you go looking for these people?” she asked taking another look at the photos.  
“I don’t know if I’ll go” Arthur cut short.  
“But… you promised…”  
“Did I say the words ‘I promise to go’?”  
Emily huffed. She wanted to go, she wanted to meet those people, and most of all Black Belle, see why she was so famous.   
“If you go, will you bring me with you?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“The writer said you have to take photos, and you just gave me the camera, so I guess I have to come with you.”  
“Yeah, yeah, right.”  
He sounded strange, like he had suddenly become of few words, but Emily couldn’t understand the reason of that change and she didn’t want to bother him even further, so she just focused on the photos and followed him back to where Uncle was sleeping. Arthur sat down on the bench right next to him, intentionally waking him up with a jump.  
“Where have you been?” he asked.  
“We met a man who gave me this” said Emily showing him the camera.  
“And also these. Do you know them, Uncle?” she asked showing him the photos.  
He looked at the four pictures carefully with a low “hmm” coming from his closed lips and only when he saw the picture of the man called Emmet Granger his eyes opened and sparkled of a strange light.  
“I know this one!” he laughed.  
“Really?” exclaimed Emily as a wave of curiosity run through her.  
“Yeah, he was quite known back in the days. He also had a bounty on his head for a while. Then he received the federal pardon. Never understood why.”  
“How you know him?” asked Arthur.  
“Have you met him?” asked Emily.  
Uncle’s mind went back of at least thirty years, to a younger self, and to a younger Granger, and to a fairly long hunt. He had met him, he had worked with him, he had been betrayed by him, and he had almost being killed by him.  
“Yes, he came across me in a saloon, once upon a time” he lied.  
“In which town?” asked Emily again.  
“Nah, I don’t believe you. You have no idea of who this feller is” said Arthur shaking his head and smiling skeptic.  
Uncle chuckled and handed the photos back to Emily, who looked at him disappointed.  
“But… I want to know…”  
Emily would never know the story of how Uncle met Emmet Granger, because right at that moment Mary-Beth showed up with incredible news. She told them she had heard about a train loaded with money and valuables out there just waiting for being robbed.   
Emily wasn’t enthusiastic at the idea to rob some people, some good people, but she didn’t had the chance to express her disapproval because Arthur asked where Karen and Tilly were.   
Apparently, they were trying to steal from some men. Karen was probably at the hotel, while Tilly…  
“Oh, there’s Tilly over there” said Mary-Beth pointing to a figure dragged into an alley by a man. “That does not look ideal.”  
Arthur immediately ran after them, ready to rescue poor Tilly from that man, but Emily’s mind went to Karen.  
“What if Karen is in danger too?” she asked to Mary-Beth.  
“Arthur will go look for her.”  
Emily shook her head.   
“What if it he’ll arrive too late?”  
“What do you mean?”  
Emily couldn’t understand why she was worrying so much about Karen, but she was, and she wanted to go looking for her.  
“I’m going” she just said before heading to the hotel, and as she walked she thought about how useless she was going to be if Karen was truly in a difficult situation. She was little, skinny, feeble, Karen had definitely more chances by herself, but still, Emily was pushed by something, some intuition that was whispering in her ear to walk faster and reach that bloody hotel.   
“Hi, is my friend here? She’s blonde, curvy, sarcastic…”  
“She went upstairs with a man” the man behind the counter informed her.  
“Do you mind if I go?”   
But she didn’t wait for a reply and she was already up the third step when the man asked if she needed help.   
“A friend of mine is coming to help me” she answered without thinking.  
“They are in 2B” the man shouted from below.  
Emily run to the end of the corridor where she found the room 2B and knocked at the door. There were voices coming from the other side, but they didn’t sound delighted.   
“Karen” she called.  
No answer. The two voices became louder and angrier. Emily took the doorknob and turned it, but it was locked.  
“Karen!” she called again.  
There was a noise, like something heavy thrown on the floor.  
“KAREN!”  
Emily tried to force the door in some way, she even tried to push it with her shoulder, but it was too solid for her little strength.  
“Move!”  
Arthur’s voice made her jump and she took a couple of steps backwards just in time when he kicked the door that ceded without problems. He rushed inside and she walked in right after him.   
As soon as he crossed the threshold, Arthur threw himself on the man who had hit Karen so hard that she had fallen on the floor, but though without experience the man was quick enough to dodge his fist, hit him and push him against the wall.   
Emily had no idea of how to help him and looked around her searching for something she could use as a weapon. Without thinking she took the heavy bronze statue she found on the dresser and with both hands she hit the man on the back of his head as hard as she could.  
Funny how a body falls on the ground when without consciousness, it is like all the bones in it immediately disappear, and it melts like a pudding. When the man fell like that, Emily became aware of what she had done and she widened her eyes in an expression of terror.  
“Oh my God” she whispered moving her eyes from the body to Arthur.  
“Is he dead?” she squeaked.  
“No. Come on, let’s go. Karen are you okay?” asked Arthur helping the girl standing up.   
“Yes, thank you, Arthur.”  
Emily couldn’t move her eyes from the man on the ground from whose head now was coming out something dark, red and slimy. The only sight of the blood made her face turn white and with a panicked voice she yelled: “oh God, he’s bleeding!”  
She was pushed out of the room and when Arthur tried to take the bronze statue from her hands she realized she was holding it so tight that her knuckles had become white.  
“Are you sure he isn’t dead?” she asked again. The idea of having killed another man, a rather innocent one this time, made her voice shake.   
“Yeah, you just knocked him out. Now we need to go before he wakes up” said Arthur pulling the statue from her hands and pushing her towards the stairs.  
Emily walked, but she was insecure on her feet. Her head was still a little dizzy because of the adrenaline she had felt before. It had been like a shock, forcing her to hit that man. There was definitely something wrong with her: until some days before she would have never done something like that, but now she had, and what was scaring her most of all, was that it seemed she couldn’t control it, like she couldn’t control her actions.   
They walked out in the street and back to Uncle and Mary-Beth, when something else happened. There was a man, shouting from the other side of the road and telling Arthur he was sure he had seen him in Blackwater. He tried to play dumb at the beginning, but the man was sure he wasn’t mistaken, and so Arthur jumped on the first horse he saw and chased the rat.  
Of course all this was like a far away happening for Emily, like something that was going on in the background of her mind, like she was watching a movie but without paying attention to it, because all her thoughts and all her senses were involved in trying to understand what was wrong with her.  
“Are you okay?” asked Mary-Beth noticing her being miles away.   
“Yes, yes” she murmured and for the first time she really didn’t know what to say.  
“Come on, girls. Let’s go back to camp” said Uncle.  
The five of them reached the wagon and then took the road back.   
“Did something happen inside that hotel?” asked Mary-Beth still looking at Emily with a concerned expression.  
“I… I hit the man.”  
“And I thank you for that” said Karen massaging her cheek.   
“I might have killed him!” she exclaimed outraged.  
“So what? The bastard deserved that.”  
“Why you went inside? Arthur was taking care of it” said Mary-Beth.  
“I don’t know. It felt like I had to do it. I wish I didn’t” she added with a deep sigh.  
The thoughts kept hunting her until they reached camp and also for the entire evening. Was she changing? She didn’t feel different: the idea of robbing someone was still repulsive, the idea of killing was even worse, and she didn’t believe that violence was the right way, ever. But still, she had done those things, all of them.   
It was at that moment that she started to realize that theory and practice, ideal and real life, are two very different things. She could have had all the good ideas and intentions that she wanted, but when danger had come, she needed to do what she had to in order to survive.   
She was still debating inside her head about good and evil, when something came to her mind, or it’d be better to say, someone came to her mind. She had completely forgot about him because he was more like a shadow in camp than a flesh and bone person, so rarely she had seen him. He was a man of church, a man of God, someone who dealt with saints and sinners everyday, so who better than him to absolve her.  
Emily had never been much of a religious person: she believed in something grater than her, in a greater being, and when she was young she used to go to church on Sundays with her parents, but nothing more. No prayers before going to sleep, no repentance for her sins - not that she had needed that in the past - no strong religious beliefs. And yet, now she felt that need, the need to understand if she had taken the wrong path.  
“Good evening, reverend” she said as she sat down next to the man.  
As usual, he was seated in a remote part of camp with a bottle in his hands and his eyes lost.  
“Evening” he simply said looking at her for a second before getting lost again.  
“Can I talk with you for a moment?”  
He came back to reality again, frowning at Emily like he didn’t believe she actually wanted to talk to him. Usually, no-one wanted to talk to him.  
“I-I… you might have heard I had an… unpleasant accident with some O’Driscolls a-and… I mean…”  
She stopped, breathing heavily and not knowing where to start.  
“I have killed a man, reverend” she spit out. “And I have stolen, or at least I helped Javier stealing some money, and today… today I’ve used violence against another man, an innocent man.”  
The reverend kept looking at her with his furrowed brow and those dark eyes, but it was like he wasn’t actually seeing her.  
“What I want to know is: I know the things I’ve done are bad, but I’ve done them for a reason, I’ve done them because I had to do them, but at the same time they are inexcusable.”  
Again, no answer from the reverend, only that strange look. Was he judging her?  
“Can you help me?”  
The reverend’s forehead suddenly relaxed, his eyes became sweet, his expression understanding and pitiful.   
“Oh my dear Margaret, of course I will help you” he said with a soothing voice.  
“M-Margaret?”  
“Meet me at dawn near the station” he whispered right before standing up on his unstable legs and stumbling away.  
Emily huffed. It seemed like no-one could help her. Everybody there kept telling her that what she had done was right, while she thought she was loosing herself somehow. Who she should have listened to? And the reverend, the only person she thought would be useful, was completely gone. Maybe he was crazy?

...

The next morning she woke up early. That night she had had dreams about her father, confusing things that made her think about her family and made her so sad she couldn’t go back to sleep. She stood up, went to Pearson for her shouted ‘good morning!’, took something to eat and wandered around.  
“Morning Hosea” she murmured walking in front of the man standing near the fire with a cup of coffee in his hands.  
“Morning. You woke up early” he stated.  
“You too.”  
“I usually do. What woke you?”  
Emily sighed looking away and her eyes met the figure of Arthur, standing from his cot and stretching his back. His face was different that morning: he had a big blue stain on his left cheek and the eye was slightly swollen.  
“Dreams” she said, but she didn’t specify what kind of dreams, and her mind was too preoccupied with Arthur to focus on that matter.  
Hosea of course didn’t need any specification, he immediately understood and he wanted to ask her about it, maybe say something comforting, but he didn’t had the chance.  
“Has anybody seen the reverend?” asked Miss Grimshaw’s loud voice.  
She was walking in their direction and even though she was still fairly distant from them, they could perfectly hear her screaming.   
“Anybody? Morning Arthur, have you seen Swanson?” she asked reaching his tent.  
Arthur murmured something that Emily couldn’t perfectly understand from where she was, but that sounded a lot like:“no, why? You think he’s in danger?”  
Emily’s mind went back to the night before and the weird conversation she had had with that crazy reverend.  
“Hosea” she called the man’s attention. “Yesterday the reverend said something about a station.”  
“A station?”   
“Yes, I have no idea what he was talking about. He called me Margaret” she added in a perplexed whisper.  
Hosea smiled and shook his head and then he called Arthur who drew closer without the need to be asked twice. As he approached them, Emily focused on his face: it seemed he had received a punch, and also from his way of walking she could tell there was something wrong with him.  
“What happened to you?” she asked with concern.   
“A bar fight.”  
“A bar fight? When?”  
“Yesterday evening after I went back to Valentine.”  
She had the instinct to reach out a hand and touch the bruise, but she killed that instinct thinking about how embarrassing it was going to be, especially with Hosea standing there, so instead she kept looking at him with those worried puppy eyes.  
“It was at the Smithfield, wasn’t it?” she asked and her voice took an angry inflection.  
“How do you know?”  
“That place is like hell.”  
“Swanson must be at the Flatneck Station, Arthur” Hosea informed him.   
“You think I have to go have a look?”  
“You should. It’s Swanson, who knows what he’s up to.”  
“What’s his problem?” asked Emily.  
“The one every religious man goes through: lost of faith” said Hosea.  
“And the alcohol” added Arthur.  
“Yes, that too.”  
Emily thought she didn’t have to be surprised by Swanson behavior, not at that time, not in that place, not surrounded by those people. And indeed she wasn’t surprised, she was scared. The thing that was scaring her was that that kind of life had leaded astray someone with strong will and beliefs like a reverend, so what would have happened to someone like her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I did it again... I'm late with the publication...
> 
> I really don't know what to say about this chapter. I think it's an important point in the story because she's starting to adapt to the 1899 Wild West "laws".
> 
> About Uncle: there is a theory, pretty impossible if you ask me, but I wanted to use it anyway, that says Uncle was a bounty hunter when he was young. I think it's fun to think about him as a criminals hunter, actually working and spending all day at horseback - maybe the reason for his lumbago? ahaha. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter.
> 
> See you next week :)


	10. Getting accustomed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two words before starting.  
> I put music in this chapter, but of course it can be read also without. If you are interested Ao3 gave me the possibility to put the YouTube link.   
> Enjoy :)

It took a little before he opened his eyes. First he regained consciousness, stretched his back on the hard ground covered by the old worn blanket, and then he tried to yawn. I say he tried because when he opened his mouth immediately a pain on his lower jaw forced him to close his mouth again and squeeze his eyes in a suffering expression.  
“Ahi, coño” he swore and brought a hand to cover the right cheek.  
That beast, the day before, had almost broke his face with that huge punch he had given him, and if it wasn’t for Arthur, who had distracted him, he would have been a headless Mexican by now. He wondered how Arthur was doing after that fight. He was the one who had got worse, being beaten by that big man in the middle of the road.  
He finally decided to open his eyes and check if Charles was still asleep next to him or he had already woken up. He was already up of course, he didn’t expect otherwise. Sitting up, Javier also realized he had a terrible pain on his left ribs, but this time he had no idea of who among all those men inside the saloon had been the one to hurt him there.  
“Hey, you getting ready?” he asked to Charles when he reached him near the horses.  
“Ah-ah. We must meet with Trelawny in one hour.”  
“I know, I know. Give me a minute” he said turning around and slowly heading to the kitchen.  
He needed coffee, and something to eat for the journey. He greeted Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, Abigail and the Adler widow on his way to the coffee pot and as soon as he kneeled down and put his hands on it, Emily showed up.  
“Arthur told me about the bar fight. How are you?”  
“Fine enough.”  
“You have a bad bruise on your face. You should put something on it, like some ice.”  
“Where do you think I can take ice?” he snorted pouring himself some coffee.  
“Right. I better reach Charles. I want to check how is he and then we should go out for the lesson.”  
“We’re leaving” he informed her standing up with a grimace of pain.  
“Leaving? Why?”  
“We found Sean. We’re going to rescue him.”  
“Sean, really? Have you told Karen?”  
“Not yet.”  
“Well, I’m going to tell her now! Good luck Javier!”  
As she said that, she run away with her skirt fluttering in all directions. Javier shook his head, finished his coffee in a few gulps, took a couple of bean cans from the supplies and went back to Charles. In fifteen minutes, they were already leaving.  
Karen had just woken up and she sat upright to stretch her back and rub her eyes. Abigail, who was already up, walked right in front of her, but she didn’t say anything, not even a ‘good morning’. Everybody in camp knew that they didn’t have to say a word to Karen in the morning, at least not until she had drunk her coffee and smoked her cigarette, especially her cigarette, or she would have summoned all the powers on earth and sky to make a lighting strike you exactly where you were, leaving only a pile of ashes on the ground.  
Everybody knew that, except Emily who came running with a big smile on her face, or as Karen described her in her mind, the most idiotic expression she had ever seen. The hell was she smiling for so early in the morning?  
“I have to tell you something that will make you…”  
“Fuck off.”  
“But…”  
“Fuck off!”  
“It’s about Sean.”  
Despite the fact that she wanted to kill her at that moment, Karen looked up at her and that was all Emily needed to start talking.  
“Javier told me they found him. Charles told me the law took him captive, but they’re going to rescue him. Aren’t you happy?” she said clapping her hands and making some little jumps that made her look more stupid than usual.  
“Delighted. Now, please, will you FUCK OFF!”  
Emily jumped at those loud and rude words, and turned around with a scoff.  
“Screw you, Karen” she replied running away.  
Karen stood up and slowly headed to the kitchen and only when she took the first sip of coffee she actually thought about what Emily had told her.  
So, Sean was alive. Good. No, not just good, GREAT. She missed him, she was hoping so hard that he wasn’t dead, and she couldn’t wait for him to come back.  
Karen shook her head. The hell no. He was a pain in the ass. He was a little piece of shit with the biggest ego she had ever seen in a person. As soon as they had seen each other, he would have surely started with all that fantasy about her being in love with him.  
But of course she loved him. He was an idiot sometimes, but she did love him, she just couldn’t tell him. And yes, she couldn’t wait to see him again, and sit with him by the fire and sing one of those beautiful songs he knew, with that terrible voice he had that made him sound like a dead cat.  
Karen smiled to herself and then pushed away the feelings and the thoughts, taking another sip and preparing for a day of work with Miss Grimshaw.

...

Javier and Charles weren’t the only couple that was leaving that morning. Walking again next to the horses, Emily spotted Lenny and Micah loading the last things on their saddles and she walked closer both pushed by the curiosity to know where they were heading and to tell them Sean would soon be with them again.  
“Dutch told us to go to Strawberry. See how things are lying in West Elisabeth, find some opportunity. I guess Sean will be here by the time we come back, so we can have a party” said Lenny.  
With most of the men gone, the camp soon became silent and at Emily’s eyes it appeared also extremely sad. The empty tents and campfires made it look like an abandoned place and she hoped that moment wouldn’t last much and that soon everybody would have come back.  
Her mind went to Arthur and about how he was doing with the reverend. She had thought that rescuing him wouldn’t take much time, but she was wrong because she didn’t know Arthur was having a hard time at the Flatneck Station.  
She decided to spend that time finishing the oil for John’s scars and when she was done, she went looking for him.  
He was seated at one of the tables and he was studying a piece of paper with a lot of lines and names on it.  
“You people seem to have a thing for maps” she laughed sitting next to him.  
“Excuse me?” he asked frowning.  
“Never mind. I’m done. Here’s the oil” she said leaving the jar on the table, which John took to study.  
“It’s still too soon. You have to wait for those cuts to heal completely, which will take a week more, I think, and then you can start using it” she added.  
“Well, thank you, I guess.”  
“What are you doing with that?” she asked pointing at the map.  
“Looking for a place to rob. A town, a ranch, something in the surroundings that could make us gain some money.”  
Emily didn’t like the fact that he wanted to rob some people in a town or in a ranch, but she asked anyway: “and, have you found something?”  
“Hosea said Valentine is a live stock town, so they should sell, what? Cows and sheep in there?”  
“I’ve seen sheep when I’ve been there” Emily informed him.  
“And the nearest place to have sheep may be this “Emerald Ranch”. We could go and find out if they are preparing some for being sold.”  
“We?”  
“Well, yeah I guess…”  
John turned his head from left to right and checked the place like he was looking for something.  
“There’s no many folks left, so I guess… I can’t bring Bill, he’d ruin everything so… maybe I’ll go alone” he ended looking again at the map and shaking his head.  
“If you need a hand, and you just have to check something, I can come with you” proposed Emily.  
“You?” asked John looking at her.  
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”  
“N-no…”  
He wanted to say “because from what I heard you are as dumb as Bill” but her face made him understand that it was better if he didn’t utter that sentence.  
“Yes, yes I think I can bring you with me” he said in the end.  
“Good. When?” she asked.  
“Well, I still don’t know. I’ll let you know.”  
“Okay. Remember: everyday, twice a day, and your face will look much better in a month” she added tapping on the jar before standing up to go away.

...

Arthur left the reverend under his tent just when Miss Grimshaw came closer to ask what had happened.  
“Just… the usual” he replied with a shrug.  
“Poor bastard.”  
“He was lucky, this time. Real lucky” he said going away.  
He couldn’t believe the crazy chase that man had forced him to do that morning, and he was feeling already tired, but there was no time to rest.  
He went looking for her. He wanted to tell her about his discovery, even if he already knew she would freak out at the news.  
She was speaking with John. He waited until she stood up to go away and in the meantime he observed how the two of them looked so distinct from the distance: John so ugly, scarred and mean, Emily so pretty and neat. It must have been the same impression Arthur gave to the deputy when he walked inside the sheriff’s with her.  
And how? How could Arthur walk beside her in the street and not feel diminished by her presence? And how couldn’t she notice that?  
He took a deep breath and reached her.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey, you’re back. How’s the reverend?”  
“Alive, for now. I found him. I found one of the men in the photographs. The pig farmer.”  
“Emmet Granger?”  
Emily already knew the people in those photos by heart.  
“Yeah, and… well, I asked him about Calloway, but uhm… he wasn’t very pleased and… well I had to shoot him.”  
“YOU DID WHAT?” she exclaimed bringing her hands to her face and covering her mouth in shock.  
“Hey, he kept threatening me, and humiliating me, so first I returned the favor. Then, I was going away but he engaged me in a duel. I couldn’t…”  
“You returned the favor?”  
“I made pig shit rain on him.”  
Her face changed immediately from shocked and disappointed to funny and goofy: she was trying to restrain the laughter.  
“You did what?”  
“I-I put dynamite in a pile of pig shit and made it rain on him.”  
She busted out laughing and Arthur smiled at her amusement. He expected another reproach for his behavior, not a laugh.  
“Anyway, I couldn’t leave without taking care of him” he said in the end.  
“Jesus, Arthur” she whispered and brought a hand to hide her eyes, still smiling, but forcefully returning to a serious demeanor.  
“You didn’t have to kill him.”  
“Yeah, well next time why don’t you try to convince a crazy old man to talk about his past as famous gunslinger.”  
“I would have if you had brought me with you! You promised I could come.”  
“Believe me, you haven’t missed much.”  
“But next time I’ll come with you. Say it!”  
“Okay, okay. Next time we’ll try to convince the asshole together.”

...

Emily sighed and looked at his face. She wanted to ask more details about how Granger had died, understand if Arthur was just defending himself or if he had started the thing, but at the same time she was afraid to know he had been the one who started it. She didn’t want to think about him as a murderer.  
“At least you found something about Calloway?” she asked in the end.  
“Nothing.”  
Silence fell between them, an embarrassing silence. Emily couldn’t remove from her head the image of Arthur shooting someone in cold blood, and at the same time, that image reminded her of something similar she had done recently, and the weight of her actions was starting to be felt again on her shoulders. Arthur cleared his throat before finding an excuse to leave, breaking the silence and the tension.  
She couldn’t believe those people knew nothing but violence. It seemed they didn’t even try to find an alternative to killing, some way to convince people that wasn’t pointing a gun to their heads. She had created an idolized idea of them at the beginning, but that idea was starting to fade away.  
But she had to admit the shower of shit was funny. She smiled again thinking about it. It must have been like one of those scenes in kids cartoons, like Mickey Mouse or Duffy Duck, just more… dirty.  
In a couple of hours, in addition to everybody leaving camp, Arthur and Hosea decided to leave too. They wanted to go looking for one of the legendary animals in Hosea’s map. They called her intentionally to tell her about it, and not only that.  
Arthur had already removed the saddle from his horse and he was tapping his hand on its back.  
“I’ll leave Drover to you. Take good care of him, he’s a good horse” he said.  
“You’re leaving it to me? And how… how will you travel?” she asked.  
“I’m going to sell this one” he replied pointing at the big black horse next to him.  
“And in the meantime, I’ll buy a new horse. Drover is good, but sometimes he gets scared easily, so be careful when you ride him.”  
“I will” she said, but in her mind she was thinking she would have never tried to ride him on her own.  
She looked at them mounting on the horses and disappear into the woods. And now, the camp really felt empty. However, Miss Grimshaw gave Emily no time to think about it, putting her to work after the days of laziness and boredom.  
She was assigned to the clothes washing and she took the chance to wear her “normal” clothes and wash the shirt and the skirt.  
“In the future is so much simple” she said to Abigail as they hanged the clean laundry.  
“We have a thing called washing machine. You put the clothes inside and it washes them, so you don’t have to rub and ruin your hands with water and detergents.”  
“Why don’t you build it, this way Miss Grimshaw will stop torturing us” she replied, but her tone was heavily sarcastic. Abigail was one of those who still didn’t believe in Emily’s story.  
Talking seriously, no-one believed in the possibility that Emily truly came from the future, but some of them, like Mary-Beth, Tilly, Hosea and Charles, believed in her conviction that she came from the future, so if it was real for her, it was real for them too, but they didn’t actually believe in a fact, they believed in a belief.  
“You all are too hard with her. She’s just doing what she thinks it’s better to make this camp work. Your hygienic situation it’s already unstable. Without her it would be disastrous” said Emily.  
In those days she had thought a lot about the harsh reaction Miss Grimshaw had had with her, but also about how worried everybody said she was because of her disappearance, and so, Emily decided to forgive her and forget the fact that she had been slapped, and, on the contrary, she started to take her defense every time somebody silently attacked her for something she said or did in camp.  
Since the place was much more boring with most of its people gone, Emily also started to visit Kieran constantly, alway being careful not to touch him with a single finger, but she had also noticed that since she had loosened his ropes and made him sit on the ground, no-one had tightened them again, so that now he could stay seated and sleep correctly.  
Emily wondered if that had happened because she had somehow put some humanity in those people’s heart or just because no-one bothered to put him in the right place again.  
With Kieran, Emily talked mainly about horses. When the man found out she knew nothing about those animals he loved so much, he decided to make her some real lessons about them.  
“What about that one? What breed is it?” she asked pointing at Dutch’s horse.  
“That one is an albino Arab, which is different from a white Arab because of his eyes, you see them? They are clear.”  
“What about Charles’s horse? Taima. She is so strange, with all those colors.”  
“He has an Appaloosa. Quite common horse, sweet and calm, good for training.”  
It also happened that she brought Drover near the spot Kieran was tied to, so that he could give her indications about how to groom him. How to use the brush correctly, how to touch him, all the things she used to do with Charles.  
“You know so much. If you weren’t tied here I’d ask you to teach me something more about riding, now that everybody who could teach me is gone” she murmured with a long face.  
“I wish I were free too.”  
“You know what you should do? Prove yourself to them. Give them something that can make them understand you are not a bad guy.”  
But that was a real issue for Kieran, because he was terrified that, if he spoke, Dutch would kill him after he had what he wanted.  
Emily didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t want to think Dutch or Hosea or somebody else could be so ruthless to kill poor Kieran as soon as they had what they wanted. She was aware that after what had happened she better didn’t stick her nose in that question, but she was taking it as something personal and wanted to do something: to prove to herself that those people weren’t as terrible as sometimes they seemed, to prove that Kieran wasn’t dangerous, to prove to everybody that kindness was the right way.  
“Emily!”  
The kid’s voice distracted her from her thoughts.  
“Hey, Jack!”  
“Can we play?”

...

Emily didn’t stop making up new games. Every time Jack asked her she always came up with something new. Duck, Duck, Goose was one of his favorites because they played with his mom, Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen, even if the latter wasn’t very pleased to play and they had to force her. Then, there was hide and seek, Simon Says, which was super fun because they played with Mr. Pearson - whose name was Simon - and he always found something hilarious to make, and then Hopscotch and the Explorers. If Jack was having a bad day or he was bored he knew he could always go to Emily and she would have found a way to cheer him up.  
That day they played hide and seek and when they were tired enough, to rest, Emily chose a particular spot in camp and told him to lay on the ground and look at the sky.  
“Why?” he asked.  
“You’ll see” she replied.  
It was the perfect day: there were enough clouds and not much wind so that the movements they made created many shapes and figures. Emily explained him how it worked and soon they started to see every kind on thing in the clouds.  
“Look! That looks like a dog! I like dogs!” exclaimed Jack.  
“And that looks like roasted chicken! God, I miss chicken” Emily said bringing a hand on her half empty stomach.  
“How does it taste like?”  
“It tastes like chicken.”  
“I’ve never eaten chicken.”  
“What does it mean, you never tried chicken?” she asked looking at him in shock.  
“Mr. Pearson only makes his stew. I eat that.”  
Their argument went on for a while, until Emily sweared she would have found a way to make Jack eat chicken.

...

After a few days from everybody’s departure, John decided to check Emerald Ranch for those sheep he wanted to steal. Emily changed her clothes again, wearing something that wouldn’t catch attention and with John they took a wagon: he was still recovering from Blackwater and the wolves attack, and he couldn’t ride. To the wagon they tied John’s Old Boy and Emily’s Drover.  
“Why don’t we just… I don’t kn0w, ask them to do the job and get payed the half from the sheep sale instead of robbing them blind” said Emily while they headed to the ranch.  
“Because that way we get paid for half of it. By robbing them we get the whole reward” replied John.  
“But they are good people, trying to make a living from those sheep. It’s not right.”  
“If you wanted to make things right you shouldn’t have joined a gang of outlaws.”“But why don’t you try to make things differently? It doesn’t have to be that way.”  
“Too late for that. We’ve been doing it this way all our life.”  
Emily huffed. He had such a narrow mind. For them it was black or white, good or evil, outlaws or fine people, while in reality there were so many shades, so many chances to do things in a different way.  
They didn’t want to be “slaves of the government”? Good, they could live that life - in 1899 it was still possible - but they didn’t have to steal sheep from a ranch to do that.  
“So what? We walk inside and tell them we want to rob them?” she asked annoyed.  
“We meet the people and ask if they have cattle to sell. I reckon we’ll soon find out where and when they’ll move it, so we can ambush them.”  
“Wow, you thought it through.”  
“I’m not as stupid as they say I am” he joked.  
“They don’t say you’re stupid, they say you’re an idiot. It’s different” laughed Emily, but she soon realized her words had offended him.  
“Hey, don’t look at me like that, I only repeat what they say.”  
“Who says that?”  
“Nah nah, I’m not snitching on them” she laughed, shaking her head.  
“Ahh… I don’t care anyway.”The road they took was definitely longer than the one she was used to do to reach Valentine and during their journey Emily asked John about his past, just like he had done with the others, and she found out he was an orphan too, and that he had joined Dutch when he was around twelve.  
“What kind of life has it been?” she asked. For her it was impossible to think of living like that.  
“Restless. But I know I wouldn’t be able to live any other kind of life. I feel like I was born to do this” he answered.  
“Born to be an outlaw?”  
“To be free.”  
Emily didn’t have the courage to tell him she though that wasn’t freedom at all. How can a life lived on the run be considered freedom? Without considering the moral wrongs they did on themselves every time it happened they killed someone. But how could she explain that to John? He couldn’t understand, he had an “Old Wild West” mindset. She decided to change topic.  
“How long will it take to reach this place?”  
“Not much.”  
“With a car it would be much easier. Can you believe that we can travel across a state in one night?”  
“In one night? They are fast those cars of yours” laughed John.  
“If I had a car right now, I could reach Saint Denis in half a day, maybe less. Maybe I could be home for lunch and eat the wonderful roasted chicken my mum does.”  
Silence fell as Emily lowered her eyes and studied every single straw of grass on the side of the road. John of course hadn’t sensed the change in her mood.  
“How long does it take with a horse for Saint Denis?” she asked looking at the horizon.  
“I ain’t sure, but… I’d say two days.”  
“Two days” she whispered and her eyes fixed on the road again, while in her head she was thinking about how to get to the city.  
The road led them through the Twin Stack Pass, and, as soon as the rocky promontories ended, something made its appearance, something that, at least, could lift Emily’s morale of an inch: a herd of wild horses.  
“Whoah! They are beautiful, in their own way, aren’t they?”  
“I guess they are.”“Oh my God! It’s just like that movie… oh, what’s its name? The one with the wild horse!”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“The movie! The movie!” she kept yelling and pulling John’s sleeve pointing at the horses running away.  
“Oh, I wish I had my phone with me so I could take a good picture” she complained.  
“Don’t you have one of those things to make photographs back in camp? I saw you was trying to take a picture of Mary-Beth the other day.”  
“Yeah, but with that thing I need fifteen minutes to get the angle and the light and I never know how the photo will be in the end, if I got it right… that machine is a nightmare” she said gesturing widely.  
“With my phone or a normal camera, one of those we have in the future, would be much easier.”

...

John glanced at her. That was the second time she mentioned the “future” in his presence and from the natural way she pronounced those words, John was having a hard time believing that she was crazy, because she didn’t sound like a deluded fool, she sounded normal.  
“You use telephones for pictures? Not for calling people?” he asked perplexed.  
“We use them for both. You can call people, send a SMS, Whatsapp and make photos. Or watch a movie, listen to music…”  
She rattled off a series of actions she could do with that magic phone of hers, but the more she tried to explain, the more John was confused.  
With silence falling, they both looked at the green landscape around them and smelled the fresh air of the morning. The temperature in the Heartlands was ideal: not as cold as the mountains, not as hot as the south, but something in-between that made it perfect for a journey under the sun like the one they were making.  
With another whip on the reins, John’s attention was caught by some far buildings with high chimneys. Emily followed his example and saw them too. She knew exactly what it was, there were so many of them in the future, even if with a little more modern style.  
“Oil factory” murmured John.  
“Yeah, I know. Who does it belong to?”  
“I have no idea.”  
“Maybe Leviticus Cornwall?”  
John jerked his head around to look right at her face.  
“What do you know about Leviticus Cornwall?” he asked.  
“That he was a great man with a great business.”  
“You mean a pompous son of a bitch with a lot of money” John laughed bitterly.  
“How can you say that? You don’t know him.”  
“Dutch told me about him.”  
“But from my understanding, he doesn’t know the man either” she replied frowning.  
“Dutch knows people like him. He’s been fighting them all his life.”  
Fighting? What was he been fighting? Economists? Businessmen? But those people are only a representation of a greater thing: progress. And you can’t fight progress.  
Emily was starting to understand Dutch’s character a little better: a man with wrong but strong beliefs who had succeeded in convince a bunch of people to follow him in a life of sin and misery, but presenting that life to them like the best they could aspire to, some sort of guru, a mentor.  
Again, Emily didn’t find the courage to tell John that Dutch’s fight seemed useless and impossible. She didn’t want to attack that man who everybody saw like a light in the dark, the head and heart of the group. It wasn’t wise.  
They focused their attention on something else, talking about futility and ordinary things until they finally reached the Emerald Ranch. In Emily’s eyes it was a very peaceful place - at least at the beginning - quite big, but with most of the houses abandoned, which was something she found strange.  
Maybe the place was having a period of recession and many had decided to leave, or worst, they were fired. The thought made her feel awful. Those people were probably having much trouble already on their own, they surely didn’t need them to steal their sheep. It could have been the final blow to make them fall in ruin.  
The three men inside the yard stopped what they were doing to look at them when they jumped down the wagon and walked down the street. The man with the scarred face and the limp and the little maiden. What a strange couple.  
“How can I help you?”  
The words caught Emily and John’s attention. A man had spoken them, a gray-haired man with clear eyes.  
“Hi partner. We’re looking for, erm, sheep” said John walking towards him, hiding how he could the hurting leg.  
“We’re starting a little business of ours as ranchers and we need animals” he added.  
The man eyed John from head to toe frowning slightly at his words.  
“You don’t look like a rancher. What happened to you?” he asked nodding to John’s leg.  
“Wolves.”  
“Ah… nasty bastards.”  
“You can say that. So, about them sheep?”  
“Listen buddy. We don’t sell privately. If you want some sheep there will be an auction one week from now. You can buy your sheep there.”  
“One week from now you say? And I’ll find some of your animals there?”  
“Sure, we are the best around here.”  
Relieved by the fact that everything was going as expected, John entertained a conversation of a few minutes with the man about cattle, pretending he really wanted to start his own business. Emily in the meantime had already lost herself. She was looking around at that strange place, so quiet, so old.  
Emerald Ranch had the stables and the animals on one side and the houses on the other, and the main house was perfectly distinguishable from those of the employees because it was definitely bigger and fancier, with its green and white exterior.  
Studying the building, she saw a woman at the window, looking down at her in the street, but Emily’s eyes had passed on her too quickly to understand that she was actually there, and returning on that window a fraction of second after, she had already gone.  
At the beginning she thought of a reflection, a game the light had played to her eyes, otherwise, why should that woman hide from her? The fact struck Emily in such a way that she started looking round, at the other houses, the other people, and she noticed there wasn’t a single woman among them, just men.  
Her mind started to roam: she imagined the ghost of a woman hunting the place at night that scared all the women out of the place so that none of the ranchers could take wife, and without the chance to accept new people because of the ghost the place had started to fall in disgrace.  
“Are you looking for something?”  
The man who had spoken had red hair, green eyes and a walrus mustache. Well built and tall, according to Emily he could be around forty.  
“Just looking around. Why are those houses closed?” she asked pointing at the ruining buildings.  
“This was a sort of little town once, but it didn’t work. That was a saloon, and that one was a general store.”  
“Why didn’t it work?”  
The man smiled, looking away and Emily found his smile incredibly attractive, but at the same time she was sure he was hiding something.  
“It just didn’t. Mr. Wagner, the owner, is a little jealous of his property and didn’t want any stranger to come here. That’s why you and… your friend should leave as soon as possible.”  
Something inside Emily trembled at those words. The red haired man looked nice, but the worried way he had said those words was scaring her. She dared to ask just one question more.  
“What about the woman at the window?”  
The man took some steps backwards and shook his head slightly.  
“Good day to you, Miss” he said and just walked away.  
Once alone, Emily glanced again at the window before she ran back to John, who, in the mean time, talking with the man, had reached the fence and was pointing at some cows.  
“John, John, I think we should go” she urged him with a trembling voice.  
“Yes, I think I have all the information I need. I’ll see you at the auction then” he said to the gray-haired man stretching out a hand.  
“Oh, no. Not really. We always send the young ones to herd the sheep to the auction.”  
“Oh, well, goodbye then, partner.”  
The two shook hands and, finally, John and Emily walked back to the wagon.

...

“They’ll move around ten heads one week from now, walking past the Twin Stack Pass. A perfect spot to surprise them. They sell each animal forty dollars. It’s not much but I reckon it will do for now.”  
John looked at Emily, seated next to him on the wagon and suddenly realized there was something wrong: she had a troubled face.  
“What? What happened?”  
“That place… that place gave me the shivers.”  
“Why? Seemed normal to me."“Something happened there, something terrible they’re trying to hide.”  
John scoffed and shook his head. She was definitely  
exaggerating.  
“And what would it be?”  
“A murder” she said without hesitation.  
This time John laughed openly, but he hadn’t considered the still painful stitches on his face and the laugh chocked in his mouth and turned into a moan of pain.  
“What gave you the idea?” he asked.  
Emily wanted to tell him about the ghost of the woman at the window, but she knew he would have probably called her crazy.  
For all the way back, she was rather silent. Heading to Emerald Ranch, she had chewed John’s ear off, and honestly, he preferred her when she talked, because that silence was making the journey long and boring.  
“Oh! I forgot!” she exclaimed slamming her hand on her forehead.  
“What?”  
“I wanted to buy a chicken.”  
John’s expression doesn’t need a description, he was more than bewildered at those words.  
“What?”  
“A chicken. The other day Jack told me he never ate chicken. I wanted to cook one, or try to cook one for him.”  
“He’s never eaten chicken?”  
It was Emily turn to look at him in bewilderment.  
“You don’t know that your son has never tried chicken?”  
No, John didn’t want to talk about that, Abigail already burdened him with fatherly questions everyday in camp.  
“Never mind, we’re almost home” he diverted.

...

Emily didn’t waste time. As soon as they untied the horses from the wagon, she run to the girl’s tent looking for Mary-Beth.  
“You have no idea what I just discovered!” she almost yelled.  
“What?” asked Mary-Beth raising her eyes from Tess of the d’Ubervilles.  
“There is a ghost in Emerald Ranch” she whispered kneeling down next to her.  
“A ghost?” she whispered back with wide eyes.  
“I swear to you, I’ve seen her! She was at the window, and I might know who she is.”  
Emily exposed her theory about a young woman, the lover of Mr. Wagner, the ranch owner. She was killed by his husband because of his jealousy and now her ghost didn’t leave the house until midnight, when she used to hunt the entire ranch and scare the other women out of it.  
“Wow, this makes a really good story” said Mary-Beth in the end with sparkling eyes.  
“Do you want to write it?”  
“Can I?”  
“Of course! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be famous for it.”  
“That’s the dream” sighed Mary-Beth taking out a little journal and writing a couple of lines.  
Emily peeked at it trying not to be noticed, but from upside-down she couldn’t make anything out of it. Mary-Beth had a strange handwriting: small, twisted, with the words really close one to the other.  
As soon as she put the journal away, Emily looked around, pretending indifference, and causally her eyes fell on Dutch in the distance, smoking his cigar and watching the camp people at work.  
It was like this that she thought of asking Mary-Beth about the ‘Kieran situation’, no-one better than her to give advise. She told her about her idea of trying to convince Dutch to free Kieran, if only he had done something for Dutch in turn.  
“I don’t know” answered Mary-Beth with a shrug, “you should go and ask Dutch in person. Talk to him, he will listen.”  
But despite Mary-Beth’s certainty that Dutch would have listened to her, Emily was still unsure. She knew she had to speak with him: he was the boss, the ruler, the one who took all the decisions there, but she had postponed that moment because Dutch’s character intimidated her. There was something in him that pushed her away from him in a resolute way, and, since the beginning, since that moment when she had attacked him because of his camp organization, they hadn’t truly spoken again.  
But Emily knew she had no other choice: she had to face him soon or later, and, after all, it was for a good cause.  
Hi, Dutch. How are you? No, no, what the hell, they saw each other everyday, what a stupid start. Hello, boss! Boss? No, not boss. Just the idea to say that word made her sick. Hi, friend! Friend? What friend? They weren’t friends. Hi, we need to talk. Yeah, right. Like they were a couple and she wanted to leave him. No, no, no. She had to be natural, just natural. Which meant be an idiot and embarrass herself.  
“Hey, Dutch. Can we talk?”

...

Dutch narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. What did she want from him? She seemed nervous. Maybe she had caused some more trouble? Besides, the fact that she wanted to talk with him was strange. Generally, she looked for Hosea when she needed to talk, never for him, because Hosea had that paternalistic way of doing things that reassured everybody. It had always been like that, ever since Arthur and John were young.  
The girl slowly headed to the back of his tent, away from indiscreet eyes, and he followed her.  
“I-I… well, I have a proposition” she started and Dutch noticed she was looking everywhere but to him.  
“It’s a bout Kieran.”  
Dutch breathed deeply but tried anyway not to lose his composure. He didn’t want to clip her wings, even though he knew where she was going.  
“I was wandering, if… if he proved himself to you, would you, erm, let him live?”  
She looked up at him and it was at that moment that Dutch understood that she cared, she truly cared about that O’Driscoll, and she probably would have done anything in her might to help him. But he still din’t trust him, he could never trust him, he knew Colm’s boys, they were unworthy of trust. Anyway, he was intrigued.  
“Prove himself?” he asked.  
Emily’s eyes sparkled with hope.  
“Yes, yes, like… give something to you, or do something for you. A, erm, loyalty token or something.”  
“Uhm… loyalty token. The only thing that I could possibly want from him is his boss hideout.”  
Then, Dutch thought about something. It was a very devious thing to do, he was aware of that, but if she was so determined to help, she would have helped, but by following his rules.  
“If you are able to convince him to talk, give away this information, I’ll let him live” he said in the end.  
“You promise?”  
“I promise.”  
“I can’t” said Kieran when Emily explained the terms to him.  
“Why not?” she asked.  
Kieran wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Dutch was doing, using that girl to get what he wanted, and he knew his options where two: if he spoke, Dutch would have found an excuse to kill him and even if he didn’t, Colm O’Driscoll would have found him, sooner or later, and Kieran would have paid for his betrayal.  
But even if he tried to explain that to Emily, she was too convinced that Dutch might never kill him, and she didn’t want to listen to him.  
“Are you sure that’s not just an excuse?” she asked angrily. “It seems to me that you’re not trying to help me getting you out of this situation, Kieran.”  
“Why, why would I lie?”  
“I don’t know, but I’ve tried to help and Dutch is meeting you halfway.”  
It was at that moment that Kieran understood Emily had fallen in Dutch’s trap.“Don’t you understand he’s playing you?” he naively asked.  
Emily was outraged by that statement and she left Kieran to walk as far away from him as possible. It seemed he liked to be tied to that tree after all.

...

Hosea came back the day after. He had left Arthur halfway from camp when he said he wanted to reach Javier and Charles near Blackwater to free Sean. He said the bear hunting didn’t go exactly as expected, but he had fun at least.  
The first among them to come back was Charles, all dusty and sweaty, telling everybody about their success in West Elisabeth. Then, Sean and Javier showed up and it was time for introductions.  
Emily found Sean incredibly cheerful and full of life for someone who had been captured and tortured: he had an everlasting big smile on his thin freckled face and as soon as he stepped foot in camp, some sort of festive atmosphere had come with him.  
“Come on! Le’t celebrate the return of Uncle Sean!”  
Emily was exited about all that happening. She was craving music, mental lightness and the company of someone who could ward off the heavy and dark thoughts from her mind.  
Those weeks had been hard: she had done things she had never thought to do, living in that place that seemed to destroy, day after day, her good intents and rightful ideas.  
The preparations implied the purchase of alcohol and for that Sean seemed to think he could take Dutch’s place, ordering to go and buy some in Valentine.  
“Nah nah, Mr. Macguire, your party, yours the responsibility to buy what you want” said Miss Grimshaw putting some dollars in his hands and pushing him towards the wagons.  
“I need company” complained Sean, but Miss Grimshaw’s answer was a simple gesture with her hand, like to tell him: ‘not my business, choose who you want’.  
Sean looked around. He had no intention to bring Javier nor Charles. Their journey back to camp had already been boring enough. He needed someone alive, someone with a good sense of humor.  
“Hey, you girl!” Sean called out loud.  
Emily didn’t answered and didn’t even turned around. There were five girls in camp, how could she know he was addressing her?  
He could walk closer and ask her gently, but Sean being Sean, he preferred to be rude and quirky as usual.  
“Hey, the new girl! Yeah, you! You come with me to buy some booze?” he yelled and now Emily’s attention, together with the one of everybody else in camp, was caught.  
“Sorry, you were talking to me?” she asked walking closer.  
“Yeah, you come with me?”  
“S-sure” she agreed a little taken aback for the request.  
He could have asked everybody, maybe his girlfriend, but he had asked her. Why? And this fact was also noticed by Karen, who anyway had pretended not to hear nor see what was happening and kept to work as usual.  
“You know Valentine, girl?” asked Sean getting on the wagon.  
“Yeah, I’ve been there a lot of times.”  
“Good, so you can guide me there.”  
“And, my name is Emily, by the way.”  
“Okay, Emily, nice to meet you. How did Dutch find you?”  
Emily frowned at those words.  
“They haven’t told you anything about me?” she asked.  
“No, they should have?”  
“Not a word about the crazy dumb girl that comes from the future?”  
Sean laughed and this way Emily noticed he missed a tooth, maybe more than one.  
Javier, Charles and Arthur hadn’t said anything about her since they had recused him, and Emily felt bad for that. Not that she wanted everybody to talk about her, but she would have appreciated a mention, a few words to explain her presence in their group.  
So she started with her story. Sean was delighted that in the world existed someone who talked almost as much as him, and Emily was happy to have found someone who finally liked her the way she was, with her habit to speak too much, her being naive and her simple humor. A bond was created between them that afternoon, a good friendship which, unfortunately, wasn’t destined to last much.  
“And you say Hosea believes ya?” asked Sean when she was done with her story.  
“Actually, a lot of people believe me now.”  
“Well, if they believe you, I believe you too. These weeks mustn’t have been easy for you all, since Blackwater.”  
“No, not really. But from what I heard, you got the worst.”  
Sean started about all the things the Pinkertons had done to him and how he had played the ‘brave big boy’ and told them nothing. Emily let him talk, glad that, unlike the other people at camp, she didn’t have to pull the information out of him.  
They easily bought two crates of beer and two of liquor at the general store in Valentine and came back right before the sun was down completely. 

...

When Arthur arrived, the party had just began. The first bottles had been opened and Sean was about to end his speech, half drunk already. Right after that, music started.  
“Come on! Play something we can dance to!” Emily exclaimed, and Arthur noticed she had some color on her cheeks. Had she been drinking too?  
“Like what?” asked Javier, taking his guitar.  
“I don’t know. What you dance to in 1899?” she laughed.  
“I might have an idea” said Uncle sitting on one of the logs near the campfire with his banjo. 

Music: https://youtu.be/iLWwBWteJ54

He started a song which Emily was sure to have heard someplace else, maybe right in the future. It reminded her of a public event, with a great crowd and a lot of flags and banners, and she remembered herself, very very young, on her father’s shoulders to watch whatever was going on on the distant stage.  
Then, Uncle started to speed up the rhythm of the melody and Javier joined him with those few notes he was able to catch. Anyway, the two of them together made something great to which Emily couldn’t resist and, grabbing Mary-Beth’s hand, they started dancing.  
With their skirts moving frantically to the rhythm of their jumps and the sound of their laughs, soon the eyes of everybody were on them and Mary-Beth felt so embarrassed she had to stop. Emily begged her with the eyes and tried to pull her back to the dance, but she simply wouldn’t keep on.  
“Come, dance with me!” exclaimed Sean taking her arm and the two of them started swinging around.  
Emily loved music, she loved to dance and sing, it was the best way she had to stop thinking and in that moment she forgot everything.  
She started laughing in that sweet way that made her irresistible to others eyes and this didn’t slipped away from Karen, who was the only one who didn’t like what she was looking at. Jealousy is powerful and dangerous, and God knows how dangerous Karen could be.  
The rest of them was enjoying the music and the presence of that strange girl, who brought such an unusual happiness among them, making them forget all their problems.  
Emily let Sean go and reached for Tilly’s hand instead, who needed a little more insistence to join the dance, but in the end proved to be the best dancer among them.  
Hosea was again proud he had insisted to keep her with them, Charles felt peaceful in looking at her dancing, Sean had finally found someone to have a fun time with, Mary- Beth felt lucky in finding such a friend, and Arthur… well, Arthur couldn’t help but still feel unworthy of her, even though he knew nothing romantic could start between them, because of his past, because of what he was, because he was sure she wouldn’t stay with them much longer.  
As soon as she had become aware of what they were and what they did, she would have left them for a better life. Girls like her generally did.  
(End Music)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo,
> 
> I hope you liked the music! I've found out Uncle actually plays this song in the game, at Beaver Hollow, and I've also found out it's an American Patriotic song? Created during the Civil War? Anyway, I think it's perfect for this scene.
> 
> Quick question: is my John too intelligent? I ask it because I've seen people tend to write him really dumb and... I don't know, he actually had a good idea for making that train stop during the game, also Arthur said that, and I thought he could have another great idea.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter friends.
> 
> See you next week!


	11. The powerful sting of jealousy

The day was hot and as soon as she got up, Emily’s first thought was to pull up the sleeves of her shirt and open a few buttons on her chest.   
Walking towards the kitchen, one thing that she noticed was that most of the people were still lying down on their cots or blankets, regardless of the fact that the day had already started.   
Sean’s party had been animated, not only by the music, but by the alcohol too. Those people became wild when they drank, wild and bad-tempered. Karen, especially, had been the most sour towards Emily, treating her with nasty glances and silences for all the evening.  
“Morning” she murmured to Abigail and Sadie reaching the kitchen and taking some biscuits.  
“Morning to you. I know you enjoyed the party last night” said Abigail.  
“Yeah, it was pretty fun. We danced and drank, and then Uncle sang a really ambiguous song, which apparently all the men knew. And, I couldn’t believe it, I’ve seen Miss Grimshaw sing too! Where have you been, by the way? I wanted to ask you for a dance.”  
“Sadie didn’t feel good. I kept her company.”  
“Oh, I hope nothing bad.”  
As an answer Sadie looked away and it was at that moment that Emily thought enough was enough.  
“Listen, Sadie. If you are still angry at me because I’ve tried to help Kieran…”  
“No need to rehash that story.”  
“No, I want to tell you I’m done doing that. Okay? Apparently, he doesn’t need my help, or he’s an idiot. You were right, I shouldn’t waste my time with him.”  
At her words, Sadie finally put away her resentment, and nodded at her meaningfully.  
“So, I hope you’re feeling better this morning” said Emily, and finally, after days of contrast, the two of them returned to that polite acquaintance that was their relationship.  
Now that Charles was finally back, Emily had her teacher again, and, thanks to Arthur, she also had her personal horse.   
She went looking for him. Between the doing nothing and learning how to ride a horse, she definitely preferred the horse. After all, those animals she had despised all her life because of her father’s belief, turned out to be better than she thought.   
Charles was one of the few to be awake yet and, as usual, he was working on something when Emily found him.  
“We better go now, I’m planning to go hunt later” he informed her.  
“You want me to wear my jeans?”  
“Yes, I want to check if you’ve improved.”  
That sentence made Emily incredibly nervous: not only she hadn’t practiced since last time they had gone out together, but she was sure that riding Drover wasn’t the same as riding Taima.   
After she changed, Charles helped her to mount on Drover, and the two of them slowly walked out of camp.  
“What are you planning to hunt?” asked Emily trying to focus her attention on something that wasn’t her anxiety.  
“Try to keep calm, I can sense you’re worried from here. I’ll go looking for bisons. My people considers them one of the greatest gifts from Mother Nature.”  
“If I were riding Taima I wouldn’t be this nervous. Arthur told me this one is pretty skittish. Bisons you say? Wow, I’d do anything too see one. A real one. I’ve been to the Natural History Museum of Saint Denis once, and there I saw a stuffed one, but…”  
“A stuffed one?”  
Charles’s voice expressed all the shock he was feeling at that moment, like if a stuffed animal seemed outrageous to him.  
“Yeah, you know, a fake one. Anyway, I’d like to see one in flesh and bones.”  
“You can come with me if you want.”  
Emily was excited at the idea to see a bison, but at the same time there was something that was keeping her from saying immediately ‘yes' to Charles’s proposition.  
“But, you said you’re going to hunt it.”  
“Yes.”  
“I don’t know, I don’t want to see the killing of an animal.”  
“You wasn’t much impressed when I hunted that deer for you to bring to Valentine.”“Because it was already dead, and on the wagon it was covered by the blanket so I couldn’t actually see it. This time you’re talking about killing one in front of me.”  
“It won’t suffer, if that is what worries you. I try to kill every animal in a quick and painless way.”“It’s not that, I… I don’t want to see blood.”  
For the first time since they had left camp, Charles looked at her and Emily, feeling his eyes on her, turned her head in the opposite direction, pretending to look at the landscape. Yes, she was embarrassed by her stupid fear of blood.   
Blood and guns, two things they were used to see too often to be scared about. Charles knew that if she hadn’t changed herself, abandoned her fears, she wouldn’t have survived that world, nor that kind of life.  
“You’ll come with me then” he said.  
Emily turned around to protest, but he gave her no chance to do so.  
“I want you to face your fears, learn how to survive.”  
“Why? Why do you care? I’ll probably never need to hunt or kill, so there’s no need for me to…”  
“What if you do? Huh? What if you need to do one of these things, but you can’t because you’ve never learned?”  
It was a good point, but Emily didn’t care. She didn’t want to go and she made it clear to Charles, who, after some insistence, gave up.   
As Emily expected, her lesson was disastrous. Drover was incredibly more stubborn than Taima and Emily was having a hard time in controlling him, until the worst happened.  
She was trying to make him turn around, pulling the reins leftward, but he really didn’t want to listen. So, in a moment of pure frustration Emily gave a big tug and the horse jerked. Doing so, Drover caught Emily unaware and she slipped from the saddle. She tried to keep herself steady, tightening her knees around the horse, but she couldn’t and in the end her right shoulder hit the ground.   
“Fucking horse!” she exclaimed in pain.   
She hated him, he was the worst! Why Arthur had to give him to her? Did he hate her perhaps?  
“Here, here. Don’t worry, it’s just a bump” said Charles running by her side to help her stand.   
“I told you, I told you he’s an asshole!”  
Charles laughed her words and helping her back to her feet he took his decision.  
“Come, I’ll mount up with you. This way you’ll feel safer.”  
He helped her back on the horse first and then he joined her.  
“Okay, no harsh nor sudden movements. If he doesn’t listen try to convince him more gently. It’s not easy for him either, you know? He has to learn to trust you.”  
Charles had a wonderful way to do, a wonderful way to teach and Emily was literally hanging from his every word. Moreover, his presence on the saddle made her feel like she had nothing to worry about.   
When he understood Drover was calm, Charles decided to leave Emily alone again. After spending some more time walking left and right, they decided it was enough for that day and decided to go back to camp.  
Once Emily set foot into camp, she thanked all the divinities on earth and sky for being back safe and sound, even if probably with a big bruise on her shoulder.   
Honestly, that horse was unbelievable: how was she supposed to love him, take care of him and learn to trust him, just like Charles had told her to do?  
“Okay, now dismount and give him a treat” said Charles.  
“A treat? For what? For throwing me off the saddle?”  
“For being a good horse that needs to understand who his new owner is” he replied severely.  
Emily rolled her eyes and huffed heavily as she dismounted Drover. Then, she took the carrot Charles was handing her and put it near the horse’s mouth.  
“Now say some soothing word and feed him” he ordered walking closer.  
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been good Drover” Emily said without a trace of kindness in her voice and she was about to give him the carrot when Charles stopped her hand.  
He moved behind her and took both her wrists: with one hand he forced her to pet Drover on the neck, with the other he made her slowly feed him the carrot.   
“You’re a good boy, Drover. She’ll learn how to love you” said Charles and his voice sounded like honey.  
Yes, Charles had a wonderful way to do things, and Emily was so happy to have him as a friend. 

...

For the first day after God knew how much time, Arthur woke up with the realization that he had nothing to do: there wasn’t work to be done, there weren’t people need saving, he could finally spend some time in camp, with his family, and not feel the burden of duties on his shoulders.  
He took some coffee and exchanged a few words with Mr. Pearson. Then, he went speaking with Hosea, and then with John, asking him how he was doing, and he witnessed the umpteenth arguing between him and Abigail.   
It was at that moment that he spotted Charles and Emily coming back form the riding lesson. The two of them dismounted the horses, and then Charles gave her some indications that she was reluctantly following, until he walked closer, took her hands and showed her how to do it properly.   
Something happened inside Arthur when the two of them touched, something in the area of his stomach twisted and he knew exactly what it was: the powerful sting of jealousy.  
But, why would he be jealous? He had said to himself that nothing could happen between him and that girl, over and over again; and yet the idea that she could find what he wasn’t able to give her in someone else, even someone good and worthy like Charles, was troubling him.  
In the distance, Emily and Charles moved away from the horses and reached Charles’s tent nearby. She was laughing like a child and the sight pushed Arthur to walk closer as they sat down to talk.   
“Hey folks” he awkwardly said.  
“Arthur” she exclaimed looking up at him.  
“You’ve been riding?” he asked pointing at the horses.  
“More or less. That asshole of your horse threw me from the saddle.”  
“That’s not true” chuckled Charles, and Arthur was surprised in seeing him smile. He was barely the type to laugh and he had seen him doing it only a couple of times in the six months he had been spending with them.   
“The horse made a sudden movement. They still have to know each other.”  
“Are you hurt?” asked Arthur.  
“Just a little pain in this shoulder, but… it doesn’t feel like I broke something” she replied touching her right arm.  
“Well… be careful next time” he said and did as to go away. He didn’t want to bother the cute couple further more. But he couldn’t take more that two steps that Charles called him back.  
“You want to come hunting?”  
“What you hunting?”  
“Bison.”  
“Bison?”  
Charles asked himself why he sounded so surprised, but Arthur was acting a little strangely that morning, so he tried not to mind too much.  
“Yeah, I’ve seen a couple on the plains, some time ago, I reckon there is a herd. I’ll show you how we hunt one.”  
“Well…”   
Arthur took a second to think what to do. He was hoping in a day of laziness and he truly didn’t care about hunting bisons, but at the same time he thought that, going with Charles, maybe he could have a word with him and try to understand if something was going on between him and Emily.  
“Sure, why not?” he said in the end.  
Charles stood up and took a big shotgun from beside one of his crates, and him and Arthur where ready to go when…  
“Can I come too?”

...

Both Arthur and Charles looked taken aback by her request, but Charles most of all.  
“You said you didn’t want to come.”  
And it was true, she didn’t want to go…at the beginning. But then Charles had asked Arthur to go with him and… well she wanted to go now… to spend some time with him… with them.   
“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”  
“Are you sure you can handle it?” asked Arthur.  
“Pff, of course I can” she answered with a wave of her hand.   
Charles didn’t need any more reasons, he had understood why she wanted to come, and without a word he headed to the horses.  
After the bad experience, Emily didn’t feel like riding Drover again, so she decided to ride with Arthur on his new horse, Ares.  
“What breed is it?” she asked.  
“What, now you’re interested in horses’s breeds?” chuckled Arthur.  
“I’m just trying to learn something new.”  
“It’s a Tennessee Walker.”  
Arthur followed Charles as he headed to the plains of the Heartlands and in the meantime he explained why bisons were so important for his people. Emily found all that fascinating, and when they reached the great valley and the open space revealed the herd of bisons, she couldn’t help but let out a soft expression of amazement.   
“Incredible, aren’t they?” asked Charles. “We should only kill one of them.”  
“Why kill one? Can’t we just… look at them?” said Emily.  
“With the meat we can feed the camp, selling the pelt we can make some money, every part of the animal is useful. Sometimes, we need to hunt and kill animals for our sustenance, it’s a gift.”  
Then, Charles looked at her troubled face. He knew she was there just because of Arthur, but it didn’t mean she had to suffer.  
“Why don’t you wait here while we hunt? And then you reach us as soon as we’re done?”  
“It’s a good idea” added Arthur turning on the saddle to look at her.  
“Yeah, yeah, I think… I’ll see you later” she murmured slipping down from the horse.  
Arthur and Charles left Emily on a hill not too far from the herd and rode down the valley. She looked at them as they made the animals move, Charles rounding them and making them follow the direction he chose, Arthur picking one and isolating it from the rest. Then, the image of the bison collapsing at his feet, and immediately after the distant echo of the gunshot.   
It was like watching a documentary in real life, and despite being sorry for the poor animal, Emily couldn’t help but feel lucky in experiencing something like that. She walked down the ridge, reaching the grassy ground of the lowland and determined to walk the distance between her and her friends to look at that majestic beast from close up.   
What about the blood? She asked herself. The hope was that there wasn’t too much, maybe none at all, but she knew it was a vain expectancy. She would find a way, one way or another: she surely couldn’t miss something like that.  
“Hey.”  
The three letters, pronounced by a deep male voice, made her turn around, and an ugly face was all she could see before passing out.

...

“Nothing here. Have you checked that side?” yelled Charles.  
“Yes, nothing here, either. Just a couple of dead bisons” replied Arthur.  
When the both of them couldn’t see Emily anywhere, they mounted on their horses and started inspecting the surroundings. She was supposed to reach them after they had killed the animal, but she hadn’t, and they waited for about twenty minutes, thinking that maybe she had walked away for some private reasons or something, but even then she hadn’t come back.   
“Dead bisons? Like killed by other animals?” asked Charles. It sounded strange.  
“Like shot and left there” answered Arthur who wasn’t giving to that event more attention than it needed, but the same couldn’t be said of Charles.  
“Show me” he said and the two of them rode eastward.  
It was exactly how Arthur had told him, the bisons had been shot and left to rot under the sun, spreading their bad smell all across the Heartlands. Just at the sight of them, Charles’s guts twisted in anger, but he tried to keep calm and use his mind.  
“They’re hunters and they’re not too far. This is still fresh. Maybe they have taken her too.”  
“Why would some hunters take her?”  
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”Not far from where they had found the carcasses there was an old campfire, already extinguished, maybe dating back to the day before, and from which spot was visible a column of smoke in the distance, the sign that another fire had been lighted.   
Without the certainty that it was them, Charles and Arthur headed there. As a precaution, they decided to dismount the horses in a covered point and approach the camp on foot.   
The men where two, with mean faces and dirty clothes, seated next to a couple of tents which solidity was rather dubious. The burning logs were nothing but two coals and they produced more smoke than fire. And there, on the warm grass, there was Emily, still unconscious, with her hands tied together on her belly and a gag in her mouth.  
What could those two possibly want from that girl? It wasn’t credible that they believed she could have some information they needed. But to find out, they only had two choices: wait, and take a risk the two hunters might harm her, or act immediately and try to make them talk the hard way.  
Useless to say they didn’t get to choose. One of the two, with long greasy hair stuck to the sides of his face, walked closer to the girl and shook her to make her regain consciousness.

...

When she came back from the other side, Emily didn’t immediately understand what was going on. Through her blurred sight, the man who was shaking her shoulders looked like John. But she remembered having left camp, and why should John be there if she had gone hunting with Charles and Arthur? No, it wasn’t John, it was someone with yellow teeth and an awful smell. The smell of dead things.   
“Wake up, beautiful” he said with a raspy voice.   
When she realized what had happened her first instinct was to stand and run, but she had her hands and feet tied and she couldn’t move. She tried to talk, but she was gagged.   
She felt breathless, she wasn’t able to let the air in and out properly, and she started painting.   
“Here, let me help you” said the smelly man with a smile that surely wanted to be sweet and caring, but that in Emily’s eyes was creepy.  
He freed her from the gag, which left a terrible taste of dirt in her mouth. She wanted to ask who they were, what they wanted from her, why she had been kidnapped, but all those questions remained in her mind, because she wasn’t able to utter a single word.   
“Maybe you want to know why we took you” said the smelly man looking to his right, and following his gaze Emily noticed another man she hadn’t seen before.   
He too had dark hair, but shorter than the smelly man, and he was so skinny that his ribs were visible through his open shirt.  
Not one, but two. From bad to worse.   
“But I have a question for you” the smelly man kept saying and with every word pronounced only a couple of inches from Emily’s face, his hot foul breath made her sick.   
“What is such a beautiful girl doing all alone in the Heartlands?”  
Answer or not answer, that was the question.  
“Because me and my partner made a bet” he said pointing at the other man.  
“I say you’re lost. He thinks you’re here for a reason. Maybe traveling on a stagecoach with a bag full of valuables?”  
Now Emily was understanding where he was going with his speech: he thought she was a rich girl traveling on a carriage just like they used to do in that time. So, what was her next move? Lie and tell them what they wanted to hear, or tell the truth? What if they hadn’t believed the truth?  
“I was hunting.”  
Just as expected the two men laughed, they laughed hard and long and their voices echoed inside Emily’s head, leaving behind the beginning of a headache.   
“Hunting? What, you think we’re idiots, girl? Huh?”  
Emily was tired, just tired to hear that disgusting raspy voice ringing in her ears, tired of the smell of dead things of that man. She wanted him to stop talking, just stop talking and go away.  
“You know what’s the only thing someone like you could find out here?”  
Suddenly, the man’s attitude had changed: he’s voice was lower and his pupils were oddly enlarged. He ran a hand on Emily’s leg lifting her skirt in the movement. She gulped, perfectly knowing what he was trying to do. Her eyes widened and her lips opened ready to scream.  
A hand was on her mouth before she could do that, but it didn’t belong to the smelly man, but to the other one who had stood up and reached her from behind without her even noticing him.  
“Shh shh. Don’t you worry. We’ll be kind to you” he whispered in her ear.  
In the meantime the smelly man’s hand had reached her thigh and his rough dirty hands were making shivers run down her back.  
“Stop, stop please” she said behind the man’s hand, and nothing but an indistinguishable sound came out.  
“We’ll be quick, you won’t…”  
The smelly man’s words were stopped by a loud sound, just like a firework had been blown up right there, by her side, but it wasn’t a firework.  
Emily closed her eyes as soon as she felt the hot sticky drops touch her face and she didn’t dare to open them again. It didn’t matter what was happening around her, she didn’t want to look. She knew what she would have seen if she had done that and she couldn’t, she didn’t have the strength to face it. 

...

Red. That’s all Arthur was able to see. When those animals dared to touch her, he saw red. Charles beside him, wasn’t in a better mood. In his mind, the scene could be summarized like the encounter of two scrawny and mangy jackals with a swan. They had cornered her, ready to dine on her white meat. They had to do something, and soon too.   
“Arthur, I think…”  
Charles couldn’t finish his sentence because Arthur was already standing. With a few long and quick steps he came out of his hideout and took his revolver. The gunfire reverberated on the plains. The half destroyed head of the man touched the grassy ground with a dull thud.  
The other man moved back raising his hands in the air and murmuring words about mercy and understanding, words that Arthur wasn’t listening to. He was focused on Emily: her eyes tightened, her lips pursed but letting out a small whimpering, her face spotted with blood drops.  
Charles came out too and now both him and Arthur were pointing their guns at the man’s chest.  
“Why you took her? Who are you? Have you killed those bisons too?”  
Charles was making his interrogation, but the answers he received weren’t much. The man was shitting himself now.  
While Charles walked closer to the man and made him kneel on the ground, Arthur reached Emily and crouched in front of her.   
“Emily” he whispered laying a hand on her shoulder and at his touch she startled but still didn’t open her eyes.  
“It’s me, Arthur. It’s fine, you can open your eyes now.”  
She shook her head and another whimper came out from her trembling lips. At her denial, Arthur took out the knife and cut the ropes on her ankles and wrists. Again, she jumped slightly as she was set free.  
“Come on, let’s get back to camp.”  
Still no answer, still no intention to open her eyes. Arthur had no idea what else he could do. He reached out a hand and took her face, trying to be as delicate as he could.  
“Emily. I’m here. Look at me. Look at me.”  
Slow and hesitant, Emily did as he was asked. Her big dark eyes met the deep blue of Arthur and she felt out of danger, but not calmer. She wanted to go away from there.  
The other man was still begging for his life and Charles was still keeping him kneeled down. Hearing their voices Emily turned her head in their direction, but she couldn’t catch a single glimpse of them because Arthur took again her face and made her look at him.  
“No, focus on me. Don’t look, you understand? Eyes on me.”  
Emily knew that Arthur didn’t want her to see the dead man on the ground next to them, even though she could picture how he had to look and the thought made her sick again.  
“Here, arms around my neck” said Arthur and lifted her in a blink of the eye.  
“Charles, can you deal with him? I’m bringing her back.”  
“Sure.”  
Arthur let her down only when they reached the horses. He made sure she was able to stand on her own and then he took a rag and a flask with some water from the saddle.  
“Here let me clean you” he said and gently passed the cloth on her face.   
Touching her like that was strange, it was intimate, and if she hadn’t just experienced something so terrible, it would have been also kind of romantic.   
In the meantime, in Emily’s head there were all kind of images and thoughts except something romantic. She wasn’t even feeling Arthur’s touch. She was still seated on that grass, with the picture of that man’s head blown up right in front of her eyes.  
What kind of world was that? What kind of life? Always hunted, always wary, always scared. She had to go away, find a better place, a better life, but that meant she had to leave them all: Arthur, Charles, Mary-Beth, Hosea… They were the only certainty in that chaos.   
Or maybe she could find another solution. But how could she feel less scared, less wary, less hunted? She already knew the answer: Arthur had told her, Charles had told her, Hosea had told her, everybody had told her, but she hadn’t listened to them because she had thought she didn’t need that. But now it was the only possible solution.   
She had to change.

...

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  
“Trust me Arthur, I know what I’m doing.”  
“No, you don’t. That’s not what you want to do, that’s not who you want to be.”  
“I want to be safe.”  
“You are safe. As long as you are with us, you are safe.”  
“Just like the other day, right?”  
There she was, in the middle of the room of the gunsmith of Valentine, looking at the different pistols and revolvers of the catalogue, even though she already knew what her purchase would have been.   
That day, after Arthur had blown her kidnapper head off, Emily had taken a decision, an important decision: she wanted a gun and she wanted to learn how to use it.   
She wanted to feel safe and to be able to protect herself and to do that she had to overcome one of her greatest fears and to throw away all her moral and ethic ideas against firearms. After all, that was the Wild West and it had its own rules. Her only choice was to follow them or perish.   
Arthur, on the other side, wasn’t so sure anymore. It was true he had advised her to change, but now… he believed that buying a firearm, she would have put herself even more into trouble.   
“What happened with those hunters…”  
“Was an epiphany. I’ve finally understood what you meant.”  
“I was wrong, I was wrong, you don’t have to change.”  
“Yes, I do. And you know that.”Arthur opened his mouth ready to reply something, but what could he possibly say to convince her? After all, she was right, but the idea that what she was about to do would have destroyed everything she was and had ever been couldn’t get out of his mind. Yes, he knew way too well that the path she was taking would bring her to the ruin, and he couldn’t stand it.  
“Here you are, Miss. Your Cattleman Revolver” said the shop owner reappearing from the back of the shop.   
He laid the weapon on the counter and patiently waited for her to take it, hoping that, this time, she wouldn’t run out of the shop.   
Emily knew what she was doing, and took the revolver in hand without thinking twice. The feeling was always the same, both physical and psychological: a strange sense of power, both terrifying and intoxicating.   
“I’ll need some ammunitions too” she said to the man.  
“Yes, of course” he said turning around and opening a drawer from where he took a little red box.  
“It’s 52 dollars” he informed her with a relieved smile on his face; he was truly selling her something.  
“Wait” said Arthur making both the seller and Emily look at him. “You need a belt. To bring it around.”  
“Right. Be right back” said the man and disappeared again in the other room with a smile bigger and bigger with every moment they spent in that shop.  
“I don’t have enough money for that, Arthur” said Emily.  
“Well, I’ll buy it for you. You can’t walk around with that thing in your hands.”  
“Considering where I am, people wouldn’t be surprised if I did” she replied ironic.  
Arthur gave her a severe look, but she didn’t care much.   
“Now you have to teach me how to use it” she said studying the little death device.  
“I won’t. Ever. You have no idea of what you’re asking me.”  
“I feel pretty certain.”  
“As soon as you shoot for the first time you’ll regret buying it.”  
“I don’t think so. And I have already fired a gun, if you remember."  
No, that girl really didn’t want to understand, but Arthur was going to show her what she was putting herself into. He was going to scare her so much that at the end of the week she would have changed her mind on everything and decided to stay at camp with the other girls, safe under her tent, for the rest of her life.  
The belt was too big for Emily’s little waist, so the shop owner had to add two more holes in it. The final result was surprising: Emily felt one hundred pounds heavier, just like instead of a simple belt with a gun in it, she was carrying the weight of the world.  
It was the weight of choice between life and death, she was aware of that, and she promised to herself that she would have never let anyone or anything change her mind and make her believe that thing she was carrying wasn’t dangerous, because that conviction was what distinguished bad people from good people.   
“Is there something else you have to do here?” asked Arthur as soon as they walked out of the gunsmith.  
“No, I think I’m done.”  
“Okay, then. Come with me” he said heading to the horses.  
“Where are we going?” she asked following him, the holster she had just bought bumping annoyingly against her leg.  
“You said you want to learn how to shoot. Good. No easier way to learn than practice.”  
Arthur mounted on Ares and Emily on Drover. For the first time, she had accepted to ride her own horse and the experience hadn’t been bad at all, especially thanks to Arthur who, knowing way too well the flaws and whims of Drover, had helped her to get to Valentine with all her bones still intact.   
Emily hit the spurs and followed her teacher picturing in her mind some sort of big field with round targets in it, just like the ones they used for the archery competitions or something like that. She believed that was what Arthur meant by practice, but she had no idea she was completely wrong.   
He slowed Ares down to walk right by her side and took out a paper that he showed to her.  
“Do you remember him?” he asked.  
“The fraud doctor who poisons his patients?” she asked in turn recognizing immediately the poster with the bounty they had taken at the sheriff’s office.  
“Yeah, time to deliver him to justice, what do you say?”  
“When you talk about practice, what do you mean exactly?”  
She was starting to think about the worst. What if Arthur wanted her to kill someone? To kill the doctor?  
“You are going to live one of my days, what you say? Huh? A day as an outlaw.”“I’ve never said I wanted to be an outlaw. I said I wanted to learn how to defend myself.”“Well, this is what happens when you insist you want to learn how to use a gun. You have to actually use it! And if you live with us, by law, you also are part of us.”  
Emily couldn’t understand what was his problem. Why was he so angry at her? Why was he acting that way? After all, she wasn’t doing anything bad, she wasn’t asking for something impossible. She just wanted to be able to take care of herself. What was her alternative? Go away? Leave them all? And to go where? With who?  
Silence fell. Emily didn’t want to keep playing his game. She would have followed him, quiet and obedient, and she would have understood what he wanted from her. 

...

He was sure they would have found him eventually. He could feel it in his bones. That gorge wasn’t far enough from town, but he didn’t want to move too far, yet. He had his patients in town, people he was “helping”, people who had to pay him still, before he could move on.   
Oh yes, they were going to find him. Any day now. Any moment. And… there they were: the sheriff? The deputy? One of the three bounty hunters on his tracks? Who that shape belonged to? That dark thin shape that was walking towards him in the twilight of the sunset. Who was he?   
It wasn’t a he. It was a she, a girl, with long blonde hair and a brown skirt.   
“Mr. Albright?” she called.  
“Who are you? Who sent you?”  
He jerked up and took a step back. She didn’t look like a bounty hunter, but never trust the appearances.  
“My name is Emily, I-I’m looking for Mr. Albright. The doctor? Is that you?”  
“How did you know where to find me?”  
The girl moved her eyes on the ground and it seemed she was thinking deeply about her next words.  
“One of your patients told me. Please, Mr. Albright. I need your help, I need one of your miraculous medicines. My grandmother is… well, she isn’t in good health.”  
He kept studying her face carefully, on which there was a mix of embarrassment and apprehension, her short skinny arms, that she was keeping behind her back, in some sort of reverence, and her big brown eyes, moving around every time she was looking for the words she had to say.   
Well, who was he to deny that poor girl’s grandmother some relief from her sufferance?  
“But of course, of course I can help you, Miss” he said amiably and he reached the crate from where he took the tonic.   
“This is what you need” he stated showing her the bottle, but it slipped form his hands and crashed on the hard rock at his feet as soon as he laid his eyes on her again.  
And there she was, pointing a revolver right to his face, gripping it with both her hands. Her face, though, hadn’t changed, there still was that mix of fear and awkwardness that made him think she didn’t really want to do what she was doing.   
“W-what does it mean?” he asked loudly.  
“Mr. Albright! You are under arrest” she replied with a firm and steady voice that didn’t suit her appearance.  
She surely didn’t look like a bounty hunter, and maybe that was her secret, but if she truly was, she had to be the dumbest bounty hunter in the world, because there was something she hadn’t thought through.   
“I think you are missing something, Miss.”   
That was it, no more need to fake, no more need to lie. He abandoned the scared innocent attitude and a sneer appeared on his face while with his right hand he reached for the gun under his jacket.   
Her face didn’t change: she wasn’t intimidated, but she wasn’t reacting to his provocation, either.  
“You better walk away. I have no intention to harm you, if you let me go” he said.  
“I can’t, Mr. Albright. You are killing people with your two-bit remedies.”  
“How do you think to stop me? You alone, with that revolver you clearly don’t know how to use” he laughed as he pointed his pistol at her.  
As an answer, she cocked the weapon. He smiled nervously and did the same.   
“I don’t want to kill you, Mr. Albright. Just come with me, peacefully.”  
“You are a fool if you think I’d do something like that.”  
“No, I think you are the fool here, buddy.”

...

“Again. Say it again” asked Emily.  
“My mother is sick and I need medicine” replied Arthur annoyed.  
“You need his miraculous medicine.”  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s the same. And then?”  
“Then, you wait for him to give away his identity, and when you are one hundred percent sure it is Mr. Albright, you will arrest him.”  
They were whispering between them as they looked at the distant figure kneeled next to the little campfire. From the distance, that seemed to be their man, but they had to be sure, and besides, the sheriff wanted him alive, he had said it clearly and more than once, so they surely couldn’t risk to kill him by mistake.  
“If your plan is so great, why don’t you put it into practice?” asked Arthur. That was exactly what he wanted: scare her, make her believe she wasn’t ready for that kind of life.  
“And what if he has some kind of weapon with him? A gun? A knife?” Emily asked in turn.   
“Well, you just bought a gun, didn’t you? And you want to learn. Besides, I will always be ready to intervene if things go bad.”  
Arthur didn’t believe the doctor was really that dangerous. After all, a man who used poison to kill people, wasn’t much of a man at all. Emily took her decision, drew a deep breath and stood up. Under Arthur’s indications, she removed her belt and walked towards the man hiding the gun behind her back.   
The two started talking, the doctor soon fell into their trap and Arthur thought his time was about to come. He would have intervened only to tie him and put him on the back of his horse.   
But there was something else he was thinking about: maybe it was better if Mr. Albright didn’t see him coming, because Arthur was sure the coward would have run as soon as he had had the chance. So, he slowly climbed on the rocks to get to the other side of the ridge and surprise him for behind. That way all his ways to escape the arrest where blocked.  
But the climbing was hard and the rock smooth and slippery and it took him more time that he thought. Emily had already asked the doctor about the tonic and he had given up his identity, just like they wanted. He had to hurry.  
“W-what does it mean?”   
Arthur looked down and doing so he put the foot in the wrong place and slipped, hitting his kneecap on the rocks. He didn’t mind the pain, too concentrated on Emily who now had taken out her gun. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to do that?  
“Mr. Albright! You are under arrest.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes. That girl was unbelievable. Who had thought her that police shit?  
“I think you are missing something, Miss.”  
Again, Arthur looked down at them: the doctor had taken out his own gun and was pointing it at Emily. He had to move, quickly, before those idiots killed each other.   
“You better walk away. I have no intention to harm you, if you let me go.”  
“I can’t, Mr. Albright. You are killing people with your two-bit remedies.”  
He fastened his pace reaching the peak and climbing down on the other side.  
“How do you think to stop me? You alone, with that revolver you clearly don’t know how to use.”  
Arthur heard the sound of the hammer of the new Cattleman Revolver pulled down, and the one of another gun immediately after. He was nearly there, nearly there. Don’t do anything stupid! Both of you! He wanted to yell. But he didn’t need to.   
With a last jump, quieter than a mountain cougar, he ended up right behind the doctor, with his clothes all covered in the grayish dust of the mountain rocks, but just in time to save the situation.  
“You are a fool if you think I’d do something like that.”  
“No, I think you are the fool here, buddy” growled Arthur and as soon as the fraud doctor turned around to understand who was talking, he punched him right in the face.  
As the man took a couple of steps back, Arthur’s field of view was empty and he could exchange a look with the girl.  
“What took you so much?” she asked lowering the revolver.  
“Wrong timing. But you did just fine.”“I have no intention to come with you two!” shouted the doctor walking backwards towards the edge of the ridge.   
Emily moved closer, raising her revolver again to the man’s chest.   
“It doesn’t matter what you want or don’t want to do. You are coming with us, end of the question” replied Arthur.  
“Who said that?” asked Mr. Albright, but the question was rhetoric.   
Almost at the same moment, he raised his gun against Arthur and Emily as a reflex squeezed the trigger of that terrible weapon she had in her hands.   
She yelped, surprised by her own gesture and by the powerful kickback of the revolver while the doctor, both his feet on the edge of the cliff, lose his balance and fell back with a terrorized scream.   
All Arthur could do was look at him as he went down, screaming like an idiot and into the water. That fool had been lucky enough to fall into the river.  
“What have you done?” he exclaimed looking at Emily.  
“I-I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!”   
She was there, looking right at the point where the doctor had disappeared, with her big eyes full of shock and realization of what she had done.   
Arthur distracted himself from her to look down at the troubled waters and there he was, the doctor, struggling to stay afloat as the river dragged him down the gorge and towards the valley.   
“Help! Help!” he shouted between a gasp and the other.  
“Come on! We need him alive!” said Arthur and run to his horse.   
He heard her footsteps behind him and when he jumped on Ares, she mounted on Drover too.  
“I hope Charles taught you how to gallop” he said looking at her.  
“He did” she whispered back.   
She still was a little shaken, but present to herself, and that was all Arthur needed. He hit the spurs and the chase began.

...

What had she done? Why did she fire the gun? The doctor was there, talking and then… he had raised his pistol against Arthur, and all she could think about what that she had to protect him, she had to do something to help him and… her finger slipped.   
It was too late for crocodile tears now, she had done what she had done. All that mattered was that the doctor was still alive and they would have rescued him and brought him back to the sheriff.  
“Try to hold on to something!”   
Arthur kept screaming advises to the man who obviously couldn’t hear a thing, as he rode his horse past the river and to the other shore. Emily tried to keep up as she could: she really wasn’t an experienced rider and even less she was good in galloping, but at least she had the theory. Now, she just had to turn the theory into practice.  
The position on the saddle was uncomfortable, the muscles of her back were hurting and she was sure there was something she was doing wrong, but she was going, fast and free, following Arthur on the little rugged path. How she would have stopped, that was another question.  
“Alright, I’m gonna throw the lasso. You catch it, okay?” yelled Arthur and out of nowhere, he decided to stop. Emily needed a moment to realize that and as she did she pulled the right rein, so that Drover missed Ares only of a few inches. Letting out a squeaky yelp, she pulled the two strings together and pointed her feet straight on the stirrups until Drover stopped completely.   
“Okay, okay… that wasn’t too hard, was it?” she whispered to herself, patting Drover’s neck to calm him, because in pulling too much the bit she had unnerved him.  
She did it! She had managed to stop a galloping horse. Now, there was nothing she couldn’t do!  
She made the horse turn around and gave a slight kick of her heels. Her legs were shaking a little as she reached the place where Arthur was pulling the doctor out of the river.  
“Oh! Thank you! Thank you! You saved my life” was saying a breathless Mr. Albright as he was dragged on the shore in a worse shape than a boiled vegetable, but all in one piece and with no sign of blood on him. Thank God, she had missed him!  
Dizzy and utterly confused, he could barely understand that Arthur was hogtying him.   
“What? What are you doing?” he asked weakly.  
“Bringing you to the sheriff” answered Arthur.  
“But…”Mr. Albright couldn’t add anything else. Arthur hit him again, right on his temple, and the man passed out.  
“Why did you do that?” complained Emily outraged. There was no need to hurt him, he already had had a terrible experience.  
“I’m not riding back to town with this one blabbering in my ears all the time” said Arthur picking the senseless body up and carrying it to Ares.   
In a matter of seconds, they were on the road to Valentine.  
At the beginning, all was calm. After the crazy moments she had just lived, both her head and body needed that rest. But then, Arthur started with the reproaches.   
Why did you shoot? Who could have hit him! You could have killed him! The sheriff said he wanted him alive! And look in what shape he is now! We need this money!  
“What else could I do? He was about to shoot you!” Emily replied.  
“No, he wasn’t. He is an idiot. I could handle him just fine.”Some groans and mumbles caught Emily’s attention. The doctor was awake again, and way sooner than she expected.   
“You are making a mistake, a big mistake” he said.  
“You made a mistake, Mr. Albright. The day you decided to turn your back to the Hippocratic oath” rebuked Emily.  
“The what?” asked Arthur.  
“Oh, you are a smart one, aren’t you” sniggered the doctor, “but who gives you the right to judge me?”  
“We are only in it for the money, buddy” replied Arthur.  
“Oh, that’s even worse.”  
“Now, shut up.”Arthur turned around on the saddle and hit the man on his face again, not too strong, but enough to make him pass again.   
“Arthur! Leave him be!”  
“You want to hear him complaining for all the time?”   
Emily shook her head in disapproval, but she knew he was right.  
“So… what was that hippo… hippo-thing you said before?”   
“The Hippocratic oath?”“Yeah.”  
“All practitioners must swear an oath when they start their careers, to cure and never to harm a patient.”“Huh… and what if the wound is too great and there is nothing the doctor can do but… put an end to the patient sufferances.”  
“Welcome to the 21st century greatest debate.”Again, some groans from Ares back made Emily understand Mr. Albright was awake.  
“Uh… I don’t think I am feeling very well. It seems I keep blacking out” he murmured.  
And just like before, Arthur turned around before Emily could do something to stop him and he hit the man on the temple.  
“Yeah, my friend. You seem you do keep blacking out.”This time, Emily couldn’t restrain a giggle. She had to admit Arthur’s humor was fun. Brute, but fun.   
They reached the sheriff’s office, left the horses at the post and listened again to the doctor’s justifications and complains as Arthur carried him inside.   
Emily had a slight thrill: she was delivering her first criminal to the justice, her first bounty. What Arthur had thought to be a day as an outlaw, had turned out to be a day as a hero. Who knows how many people she had saved? How many victims she had compensated? How much good she had done? And all thanks to her courage. The courage to overcome her fears. The courage to change.   
“Oh, there you are and… Miss, it’s good to see you again” said the sheriff as the both of them entered the office.   
Emily opened her mouth to wish the sheriff a good morning, but she couldn’t utter a single word because the deputy, as soon as he saw Emily come in, stood up from his chair all at once, toppling it onto the ground with a loud noise that echoed inside the room.  
“Oh! Erm.. g-good morning to you, Miss Emily” he mumbled struggling in the tight space between the desk and the wall to pick up the chair, with a face redder than a mountain apple.   
“Morning to you, deputy” she replied feeling the man’s embarrassment.   
“Where do I leave your man?” asked Arthur with Mr. Albright still on his shoulder.  
“The first cell” instructed the sheriff.  
As Arthur brought Mr. Albright inside, the deputy slowly walked towards Emily, moving his weight form a leg to the other with an awkward dangling.   
“So, your friend caught the poisoner” he murmured.  
“We caught him together” said Emily with a satisfied smile.  
“Oh… y-you mean you…”“Yes, I helped him. It feels good, you know? To catch the bad guy and send him where he belongs to.”“Y-yes, it does. That’s why I decided to do this, in my life.”  
“You always wanted to be a deputy?”  
“A sheriff.”“Oh well, that is a beautiful dream, son. Now, if you don’t mind…” said Arthur closing the cell door and heading to the sheriff, “what was the reward?”  
“Right, erm, here you go, fifty dollars” said the sheriff handing him the money.  
“Good day gentlemen.”Without a word more or a look or a single gesture, Arthur walked out of the room, under Emily’s perplexed eyes. Then, she turned to look at the deputy.  
“Well, I’ll see you around, erm…”   
“George” he said stretching out a hand that she shook. “My name is George.”  
“See you around, George” she repeated with a smile. “Sheriff” she added with a brief nod to the deputy right before running outside.  
Arthur was by the horses, counting the money and parting them.   
“Seems you have a new friend” he said sourly as she reached his side.  
“Unlike someone, I make the effort to appear friendly” she rebuked.  
“Oh, yes, you are so friendly. ‘You know, George, it feels good to put criminals in prison, send them where they belong to’.”As he said this, he put her half of the money in her hands with a rude gesture and Emily thought that sullenness was absolutely uncalled for. She had said nothing wrong, quite the contrary, she was sure that what she was doing was good and just, so why was Arthur attacking her like that?  
“Well, it is the truth, isn’t it? Criminals belong to prison!” she said without thinking and without realizing that her words might have hurt her friend.   
“Yeah, you’re right” murmured Arthur turning around and mounting on Ares. “So, next time you bring me in, okay? And you go with your new lawful friend. How does this sound?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I late again? Absolutely yes! 
> 
> How was Christmas? And New Year's Eve? Everybody, do you have your new year resolutions? I have mine: finish this story. I have written two more chapters and then... and then I have to keep writing. I have a terrible block with this story, because this time I am not following the main story, so it's hard.   
> Anyway hope you liked this chapter! I wish you a Happy New Year!


	12. I will learn to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> So, I've used another song for this chapter, one with lyrics this time, and I have a little advise because reading and listening to the words at the same time isn't easy: as the music begins, stop to listen until the first refrain, then you can stop the music, read the end of the chapter and go back to listen the rest of the song, if you are interested. 
> 
> Hope you like the idea, it just came to my mind as I was writing it.

Childish. Jealous. Stupid. Disillusioned.   
Of course she liked the deputy. He was a pretty boy, courteous, rightful, everything he couldn’t be. And after all, why did he care? They were too different, she would have left soon, scared by what she would have seen.  
That was still Arthur intention: to show her what be an outlaw meant, what it meant to live like them, to be like them. The bounty idea hadn’t worked, she was more determined than ever to learn how to shoot. He had failed, he needed something else. A new idea to scare her.  
That was what he wanted to do. Or… was it? What did he want?   
Somehow, Emily must have guessed his mood because she changed attitude: she suddenly became sweeter, more compliant, and quieter. She was all “yes here, yes there, what do you think, would you like, in my opinion”, using big words and short phrases, making Arthur feel bad for his way of addressing her.   
As they reached camp, she asked him if he wanted to take something to eat or drink from Pearson’s supplies, and he cordially accepted, finding it a good way to make up for his rudeness. On the way to the kitchen, they walked right in front of the O’Driscoll boy, who looked up at Emily full of hope, but she ignored him completely, raising her nose in the air with indignation and fastening her steps.   
“You didn’t say ‘hello’ to you friend” stated Arthur, shamelessly rubbing salt into the wound.  
“He’s an idiot, not my friend.”  
She pronounced the words with cruelty and for a moment Arthur though he was listening to Sadie talking and not the innocent girl he knew with the name of Emily.   
“Why would you say that?” he asked, more curios than ever.  
“I tried to help him, but he doesn’t listen. He keeps accusing Dutch of getting into my head and controlling me with his poisonous words.”  
‘Well, he is not as stupid as he looks’ though Arthur, but what came out of his mouth was: “huh, did he?”  
“Yes, can you believe it? He practically said to my face that I’m weak and stupid. I don’t want to deal with him, ever again.”  
It was better that way. The O’Driscoll had probably a couple of days left to live. If Dutch had run out of patience, he would have died. If Dutch had felt merciful and let him go, he would have died anyway, killed by Colm’s boys.   
Arthur took a cup of coffee, Emily took some strawberries and they awkwardly parted, not completely at peace, but surely not in the same bad blood with which they had left Valentine. 

...

With the can of tasteless strawberries, Emily reached her tent and there she found Tilly and Mary-Beth… still reading the book she had bought her!  
“Didn’t you finish that four days ago?” asked Emily sitting next to them.  
“Shh, we’re almost at that part!” whispered Mary-Beth and she gave Tilly a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, a glance full of expectancy and excitement.   
A couple of seconds after, Tilly let out a gasp and looked up at Mary-Beth.  
“I can’t believe she did that!”  
“I know!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.  
“Why did she accept to go with him in the first place?”  
“I have no idea. I wouldn’t have. I mean, he is obviously deceiving her.”“He is a mean son of a bitch and she deserves much better!”  
Emily giggled. She had centered the point, right in the middle. Mary-Beth had liked that story so much that she was reading it again, this time with Tilly, who had waited patiently for her turn.   
She was proud of herself: she had chosen the right one, with a catchy plot and very important teachings for some 1899 girls.  
They started talking about it and Tilly was speculating, guessing what would happen next, while Emily and Mary-Beth exchanged meaningful looks, the looks of those who know, but respectfully keep their silence and secrecy.  
At a certain point, Emily’s eye caught a shape walking towards them and, looking in its direction, she recognized the thin face and red hair. He had a cocky smile and bold pace, all signs that people at camp had learned to read and which meant the Irish was in the mood for annoying.  
“Will one of you ladies please stop pretending and marry me? It’s enough now” said Sean playfully.  
“Oh yes… certainly. She will” replied Mary-Beth pointing at Tilly next to her.  
“I will not!” exclaimed the other and looking at her Emily saw she was smiling but she also had a disgusted expression of her face.  
“Why not?” asked Sean.  
“Because… because, look at you.”  
A shade of disappointment and offense crossed the Irish face, and Emily felt bad for him, even if she knew they were all joking.  
“What’s wrong with me? I’m a good, honest son of the soil.”“You’re too good for me. Too real. I don’t like good honest sons of anything. I like superficial people.”  
“You’ll fall in love with me soon enough… all women do.”  
Sean pronounced the last sentence with such a conviction that Emily couldn’t not smile, but almost immediately she looked around, checking if Karen was there.   
Every time Sean acted like that, all flirts and jokes, Karen became cold and sour or mean and aggressive, depending on the day, and Emily thought that was the clear evidence of her love for him. So, when Karen treated him bad, pushing him away, she couldn’t understand if she did that to protect herself either form Sean, and the fact that he had hurt her with his behavior, or from the feelings she had for him.   
Anyway, the fact was, Emily didn’t want Karen to be her enemy, so she tried to keep Sean’s flirts at bay in her presence, but if she wasn’t there… and she felt free to joke with her friend…  
“I will marry you, Sean” she said.  
“Will you?”  
“Yeah, sure, if you promise you’ll do something for me first.”“Anything you want, my lady” said Sean with a deep bow.  
“I want to learn how to use a gun.”

...

Emily was unaware of what happened a few hours later. She was God knows where, working with Miss Grimshaw, or playing with Jack, or chatting with the girls, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that had she missed Arthur talking with Kieran, she had missed Dutch interrupting them, and she had missed Bill taking the bolt cutters to torture Kieran psychologically.  
And Kieran wondered how she would have reacted: screaming out in hysterics because what they were doing was inhuman? Or watching the scene from a distance, satisfied by his sufferance? Maybe thinking that he deserved it? Just like the Adler widow had taught her.   
Oh, yes. He had seen the change in her attitude since he had refused to speak: she avoided him, she moved her eyes away, condescending, every time it happened she walked past that tree he was tied to. She had no idea of what she was asking him. Blinded by her innocency and good intentions, she couldn’t see how Dutch was using her.   
Kieran was good too, but he wasn’t an idiot. That time, though, he had made a mistake and he admitted it candidly. He thought Dutch would have had him killed, but in the end, it seemed, Emily’s trust was well placed. Right before leaving for the O’Driscolls hideout, Dutch expressly told Arthur not to kill him when the job was done, but instead to bring him back.   
But she had missed all of that, so when Arthur spared Kieran and let him come back to their camp, and he finally, finally, had that bath he craved so much, and he put on some clean clothes, and he took a plate of steaming stew and reached the campfire to sit down as any other human being, she looked taken aback in seeing him, free and smiling, waiting for her.  
“I wanted to speak with you” he said and patted the place next to him.  
“H-how… h-how can you…” she muttered looking around to see if the others where aware Kieran was free.   
“I’ll tell you everything, but first I have to apologize.”  
She jerked around to frown slightly and reached his side, sitting down slowly and still not fully convinced.  
“I was wrong not trusting you. You were right about Dutch, about these people. The truth is: I have lived all my life surrounded by criminals and bad people, not trusting anything that came out of their mouths. But you are different. I can trust you, and your judgement.”  
“So…” said Emily still watching around to check the reaction of the other people in camp, “you are one of us now?”  
One of us. She pronounced those words simply, like she was asking if he was part of a poker club, probably without being aware of what she was accepting to be part of.   
“Yes, I am officially a Van der Linde” said Kieran raising his chin up high in fake pride. “We can be friends again now, if you… you know, wanted to be friend with me” he added reaching out a hand.  
But she didn’t mind the hand, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight, just the time of a blink, before letting him go and standing up.   
“I must go and thank Dutch” she added running away in a hurry. 

...

She couldn’t believe they had let him go. She couldn’t believe Dutch had actually kept his word. She hoped that, of course, she wanted to believe that, but there was something deep inside, a doubt, a ticklish feeling that maybe, and just maybe, Kieran could be right. But no, he was wrong. Dutch had freed him, gave him a chance. She had to thank him.   
She run to the other side of camp with a big smile on her face, but the scene that opened to her eyes soon wiped it away. Dutch and Arthur were talking, to tell the truth they were more like arguing, while none other than Lenny was seated at the table near them.   
Emily thought to run and hug him, happy as she was to see him back safe and sound, if her attention hadn’t been caught by Arthur’s words.  
“No, I ain’t saving that fool” he said with an angry movement of his hand.  
Saving? Who needed saving? Emily walked towards Lenny and put a hand on his shoulder noting that he was panting.  
“Hey, are you alright?”  
“Hey” sighed Lenny between a draw of air and the other, “yeah…fine…how are you?”  
“Who needs saving?” she asked gravely.  
“Micah. He ended up in jail in Strawberry. They wanna hang him.”  
Emily had a small startle. She couldn’t say she liked Micah, but… hang him? Publicly maybe? Of course, 1899 law, 1899 process and execution.  
“What might he have possibly done to receive a death sentence?” she asked sitting down next to him while in the background Arthur and Dutch kept yelling at each other.  
“He killed a man it seems.”  
The blood drained from Emily’s face when Lenny answered. Not much for the fact that Micah had killed someone - she was starting to get used to that, as much as one can get used to people killing other people: accepting the news with a little twist of the guts, an expression of disgust on the face, and the word “murderer” stuck in the throat - but because for the first time she had realized the punishment for killing someone, was be killed in turn.   
She had killed someone. Once or twice, that didn’t matter, because the result was the same: just like Micah, she had to walk to the gallows, if the law had caught her.   
What would the sheriff in Valentine say if he knew? What about the deputy? Oh yes, she could picture that: the shock on their faces, the handcuffs around her wrists, the slow and inevitable walk on the muddy street…  
Arthur’s voice brought her back to reality, when he asked Lenny if he was fine.   
“Yeah, course I’m fine” he answered.  
“What about you?” Arthur asked her. “You look pale. Something bothering you?”  
“No… no” she whispered with her head still half lost in her dark fantasies.  
“Arthur, take the kid. Bring him to town, Valentine not Strawberry. Get him drunk” ordered Dutch’s voice from the distance.   
“You hear the man, come on” Arthur said to Lenny patting his shoulder.   
As the two of them went away, Emily asked herself why they had to get Lenny drunk, but the question remained on the back of her mind, while her attention was still on what she had just understood.   
She looked up as she heard some steps approaching and watched Dutch taking Lenny’s place with a blank stare.  
“Is Arthur right? There is something wrong with you too?” he asked.  
Emily shook her head, but her gesture was so insecure that Dutch immediately understood she was lying. He frowned and only when she met his narrowed eyes she remembered why she was there.  
“I want to thank you, for Kieran, for sparing him, for letting him stay.”  
“I think he will prove himself useful someday” Dutch cut short, “but there is something that bothers you. What is it?”  
Why did he want to play the part of the caring father all of a sudden? He had never cared about Emily, about what bothered her. So, why now? Hosea had opened his mind? Or maybe Dutch was jealous of him and the relationship he had with Emily? She didn’t linger on those thoughts, though, and she asked that question that would put at ease her mind.  
“We are safe, aren’t we?”  
Again Dutch frowned and moved on the chair, straightening his back and staring at her.  
“I-I mean, as long as we are all together, with you, we will never hang at the end of the noose, right?”  
“You mean Micah?” he asked as his expression became sweet and understanding.   
“Yeah, Micah” she lied.   
“No, I will never let it happen. He is part of the family. You all are.”  
Emily sighed. She was safe. As long as Dutch was there, as long as she kept being part of that “family”, she didn’t have to fear any consequence to her actions. 

...

A soft crackling from his left guided him. It could have been anything, but he was sure it was his prey. In the twilight of the sunrise, he followed the sound.   
That rabbit was the last one, he had already killed three, but he needed at least one more. Twenty people lived in that camp and he wasn’t sure four scrawny hares were enough to feed them all, but he couldn’t exterminate the entire fauna of the Heartlands either.   
A strand of hair slipped from his forehead and blocked his sight, tickling his nose. With a sigh, he moved one hand away from the bow and tucked the hair behind his ear, when a quick movement from behind a tree caught his attention again.   
It was moving, one jump at a time, slowly enough to let him draw the arrow towards his chest and take the aim. He sharply inhaled and let it go.   
Perfect.  
“Oh, Mr. Smith! Thank you kindly!” thundered Pearson as he saw the four rabbits.   
“You’re welcome.”  
“Ah ah ah, wait a second. While you’re here do you have time for a little errand?”  
“What is it?”  
“This” said the cook and he took out from under the table two big rolls of pelts.   
“These are: hare, deer, those two mountain goats you and Arthur brought the other day and a wolf.”  
“Whose the wolf?” asked Charles intrigued.  
“Erm, Javier I think. I haven’t quite understood if he run into the carcass or he got attacked.”Charles wrinkled his nose and let our a deep “uhm”. He knew Javier wasn’t the type to kill animals for fun, so if he had truly killed that wolf, it must have been for a real reason and a good cause.   
“You want me to go sell them?” he asked.  
“Yeah, that feller in Valentine makes a good price” answered Pearson.   
“Alright.”  
He took the two rolls and headed to Taima and it was while he was loading them on her back that Emily showed up.   
“Hey, ready for the lesson” she said.  
“I can’t, gotta sell these in Valentine.”  
“Oh… alright, I’ll find something else to do.”  
“Wait.”  
Charles’s mind had been faster than a lizard running into a bush to hide.  
“Why don’t you come with me? We can rehearse the basics as we go to Valentine and practice the galloping on the way back.”  
“Well, I… yeah, I guess I could keep you company.”  
Have you been hunting? What did you catch? Pearson asked you to sell these, didn’t he? Have you heard the news about Micah? Strawberry is quite far from here. How far do you think it is? Why Dutch told Arthur to get Lenny drunk? Where are they by the way? Have you seen them?  
Between a question and the other, Charles had barely the time to tell her what order she had to give to Drover. The good thing about her constantly speaking was that, at least, she was too distracted to worry about the horse, and the orders she gave were so natural and straightforward that Drover immediately followed them.   
Charles smiled when he noticed it. He knew that the only thing that was keeping her form being a good rider was her fear, so as soon as she put her fear away, she was perfectly capable.   
“I’m serious, Charles. Those two worry me. Dutch sent them to Valentine yesterday and they still haven’t showed up. Do you think something happened?”  
“You said Dutch wanted Lenny drunk, this means he wanted to put Micah out of his mind. Lenny is young, he probably can’t handle booze, and Arthur… well, you know how’s Arthur when he drinks. They’re probably sobering up some place.”“Sobering up? Still? After the entire night?”  
Charles chuckled. She had no idea.

...

No, Emily surely couldn’t understand. What was the point in getting drunk? Ruin their liver to forget about Micah? Senseless. Just senseless.  
“I’ve seen you made a new purchase, recently” said Charles and only when she heard his voice she realized that silence had fallen between the two of them.   
As she frowned at him, Charles pointed to the revolver on her belt.  
“Oh, yes. I want to learn how to shoot.”“Why?”  
“To protect myself.”  
“You don’t need that to protect yourself, not as long as you are with us.”“Pff, Arthur said the exact same thing.”“And he is right.”“Doesn’t matter. I found someone who wants to teach me.”  
Charles questioned her with his eyes.   
“Sean” she said with a satisfied smile.  
“Sean?”   
“Ah-ah. He accepted right away.” “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Sean is…”  
The suspense in his voice pushed Emily to look at him again. Sean is…? What was Sean?  
“I mean… I’d ask someone else.”  
Someone else. Easier said than done. She had thought about someone else already, but he didn’t want to.   
“Why don’t you teach me?” she asked, though she didn’t keep her hopes too high.  
Charles simply shook his head. Yeah, exactly like she had imagined, he and Arthur were just the same.   
They reached town and dismounted their horses. Emily took one of the big rolls of stinky furs and followed Charles to the butcher. He took an infinite amount of time to study carefully every single pelt, from the big one that belonged to the wolf to the little ones of the rabbits, and as it happened that he found some imperfections, bullet holes, scratches, he would tighten his lips and shake his head.   
“This is ten cents less” he said pointing to a rip on a deer skin.  
“Fine” sighed Charles.   
Anyway, as the butcher did all his checks and counts Emily waited patiently next to her friend, moving her eyes around, watching the people walking down the street and for the first time seeing something she hadn’t noticed before.   
“Charles?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why do people stare at us?”  
It was true. People were staring at them. Men, yes, but especially women, those few who lived in Valentine. They looked at her, analyzed her thin shape and sweet traits, then they noticed the big dark man next to her, and immediately after they looked at her again, but in a different way, not worried, but unpleasantly surprised.  
“They don’t see many white girls going around with colored men” said Charles matter-of-factly.  
“But what… oh, you’re right. It’s 1899.”  
“Yes, Miss. It’s 1899. Time is changing everything. Ten, twenty years ago, they would have lynched your black fellow here just because he rode a horse. Now, we are almost as equals” said the butcher.  
Equals. The word made Emily scoff silently. If he only knew what equality meant, but for the time he lived in, the man was surely openminded. At least, he made no distinctions among his customers.  
As she kept glancing at those faces people pulled when they saw Charles and her one next to other, Emily saw a figure at horseback and recognizing Lenny she walked in his direction.  
“Hey, Lenny!” she called.  
He was in terrible shape: his clothes were stained in mud and… vomit? He had two deep dark circles under his eyes and from the sway of his head and the slow blinking of his eyes, she could imagine what kind of night he had had.  
“Are you still here in town? Where’s Arthur?” she asked.  
“At the sheriff. We, erm, had some trouble.”  
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” asked Charles.  
“Oh, you know how’s Arthur when he drinks too much” smiled Lenny and with a kick of his heels he moved away.  
Everybody kept saying those words. Why? How was Arthur when he drank? She had seen the people in camp drink, they were just a little too merry and loud. Could he be that different?  
“I’m going to the sheriff” said Emily turning around, “see what kind of trouble he was talking about. I’ll come back with Arthur.”  
“As you wish, I’ll head back as soon as I’m done here” replied Charles.

...

Arthur, you miserable piece of shit. You are in your fucking mid-thirties and you still act like a sixteen. You are too old for this shit. Now, this headache will last until Christmas and… what is this pain on your knee? Feels like a bruise. Did you fall? Ohh, you can’t remember shit, can you? How much did you drink?   
He raised his head and stretched his neck cursing under his breath against the uncomfortable bed of the jail. If Dutch knew what he had done… After he told him to lie low… Who was he kidding? He was a fool, just like Micah. There was no difference between the two of them.   
“Arthur!”  
Shit. He knew that voice, he knew that half blurred shape walking in his direction. Show himself in those conditions to the entire town was a thing, but show himself to her too…  
“Hey, I met Lenny, he told me you…”  
She stopped all of a sudden and when she spoke again her voice had another pitch.  
“George! Hi, how are you?”   
“Miss Emily, good to see you” said a young voice from behind Arthur’s shoulders.  
“I was… coming to the rescue of my friend” she replied with a gesture of her hand, a gesture that to Arthur appeared full of contempt towards him.   
“Oh yes… it was just a case of disorderly conduct. Nothing irretrievable.”  
The level of Arthur shame had reached its peak. Now they had even started to talk about him like he wasn’t even there. That was surely enough. He stood up, not without some dizziness, and he stumbled away.  
“Erm, yeah, I think we have to go now. See you!” he heard Emily’s tinkling voice saying and right after her light steps reached his side.   
“What happened? Lenny told me you had some troubles?” she asked in a whisper.  
“You heard your friend: “disorderly conduct”. Pompous bastard.”   
“I don’t think you were supposed to end up in jail in order to make Lenny forget about Micah and… ugh, you smell terrible.”Boom. First strike. Right to his chest. She found him repulsive.   
“Where did you leave your horse?” she asked.   
“In front of the saloon. And yo… wait…”  
Arthur stopped his attempts to walk straight to turn around and look at her.   
“How did you come here?”  
“With Charles, we came to sell some pelts.”  
Boom. Second strike. To his belly. She was with Charles, again.   
“Uh… fine let’s go back. I need coffee, and some clean clothes.”  
Arthur mounted on Ares and then waited for her to take Drover and reach him. On the way back she was talkative as always. She talked as nothing had happened: as he hadn’t ashamed himself like the moron he was, as George didn’t exist, as she hadn’t insulted him and hurt him. But she probably hadn’t done the last thing on purpose.   
“…and Charles too, he doesn’t seem too happy about it.”  
“About what?”  
“Me learning how to use a gun. Didn’t you listen to me?”   
“Sorry, I’m just…my head is killing me. But Charles is right.”  
“But as I have already told him, it doesn’t matter anymore. I found someone who’ll teach me.”  
Despite his head was cracking open for the pain, Arthur jerked it around to look at her. Bad mistake.   
“Who?” he asked restraining a moan of pain.  
“Sean.”  
Arthur couldn’t help it. He opened his mouth and let out a long and loud laugh, so loud that those few birds on the nearby tree flew away, scared by his loudness.  
“Sean? You asked Sean to teach you how to shoot?”  
“Why? What’s the problem with Sean?”  
“He is useless. He couldn’t shoot a bear standing right in front of him!”  
“Says who?” she asked annoyed.  
“Everybody! Ask anybody in camp and they will tell you the same thing.”  
She let out a puff and rolled her eyes. That girl truly didn’t want to give up. She wanted to do that, she wanted to ruin her life over a stupid and utterly wrong idea. Fine, her choice. But at least, if she had to learn, she had to learn properly, without the risk to shoot her own foot. Arthur, for his part, didn’t want to have anything to do with that, except maybe give her some advice.  
“Anyway, if I were you, I’d ask someone else” he said.  
“Like you?”  
“No, I already told you, I don’t want any part of it. Maybe Javier can help you.”  
Yeah, Javier was probably a good idea. He was patient, calm. He was better with knives than guns, but he would do just fine.

...

But it turned out Javier wasn’t even in camp, when they returned. He was out for a couple of days, following a lead for a certain job.   
Feeling her desire slightly fade away and her disappointment raising, Emily went sitting down by the fire. It seemed no matter what she tried and how much she tried, she couldn’t learn how to use a fucking gun.   
What was her next move? Learn by herself? Or maybe ask someone outside camp who could teach her. Maybe George? He was the sheriff deputy, he had to know. But then, he would have asked questions: why learn to use a gun? Protect yourself from who? And in the end, he would have found out she was living with a bunch of wanted people, or even worse, he would have found out she had killed someone.   
Again, the image of herself slowly walking to the gallows made a shiver run down her back. No, the best thing to do was find someone in camp. But who?  
Not much time passed before Bill showed up distracting her from her thoughts. He gave her some nervous glances and only after a couple of minutes he asked his question.   
That question had been buzzing in his mind for days. Now, he hadn’t found a good moment to ask her, because she was always surrounded by the other girls, or always running after Morgan like she was his little lapdog in love. And he surely didn’t want the others to think he cared about that or something, or that he believed in the fact that she came from the future, so he needed her to be alone.  
“I never asked but…” he started, and he moved the weight of his body from one foot to the other, “what… what men do in the future?”  
Emily looked at him, frowning and creating a deep cut in the middle of her forehead.   
“What they…do?” she asked.  
“Yeah, I mean, what makes a man, a man?”  
“Sorry, I’m lost” she said shaking her head.Bill, snorted and shook his head in turn. It seemed she couldn’t understand.  
“Ohh, never mind” he said, and the voice came out like a disappointed growl.  
“No no no, Bill, come on, explain to me what you want to know and I’ll tell you” she replied making him sign to sit next to her.   
Bill sighed and took a couple of steps towards her, reaching her side and sitting down on the log.  
“What I want to say is… to be a respectable man, a respected man, what do you have to do?”  
Her forehead rippled as it seemed she invested all her mental abilities to answer that easy question. Maybe she really was as stupid as she appeared.  
“Well, first of all you have to work…"“What kind of work?”  
“Every kind. You can be whatever you want. Merchant, doctor, attorney, everything.”“Okay, then?”  
She kept looking at him, probably having no idea of what he wanted to know, or maybe already understanding where he was going with his questions.  
“Why all this interest’” she asked.  
“Oh, just… just to know.”As her expression changed, letting go of that frown, she reached a hand out and touched his arm, a contact that surprised him, but also made him feel uncomfortable, exposed, violated.   
“What is truly that you want to know?” she asked now with a sweet and warm voice.  
Bill scoffed and thought that it was better if they closed there that useless conversation, even though there was still something, a curiosity, a need to know. And so, he stayed put, and fixing his eyes on the grassy ground, he talked quickly, without even thinking about the words that were coming out.  
“Today, we… do certain things to be men. True men. Like joining the army. They all join the army, to fight, to look tough, but I know what the truth is, everybody knows. It’s only a way to… hide. Hide the weakness. They are all weak!”  
And saying this he made a fast movement with is arm, pointing something with his finger, something far away, something that didn’t exist.   
“Weak and meek, like sheep! So, what I want to know is… do men in the future still have to do these things to be considered true men?”  
She had finally understood, and with a sympathetic smile and a slight shake of her head she confirmed his hope.  
“No, we don’t. In the future we don’t have this kind of ideas anymore. People are people, regardless of the way they act, the way they dress, the things they do. If a woman want’s to dress like a man, why shouldn’t she? If a man wants to do a job considered to be only for women, why shouldn’t he? If I am a girl, but I want to be a boy, but I still want to love boys, why shouldn’t I?”  
Now, it was Bill’s turn to get lost in the confusion of words she was uttering.   
“Wait, wait, you mean… what do you mean?”  
“I mean you can do whatever you want, act the way you want, and love who you want.”“Love who you want? You mean like… like them men, them degenerates who go with other men?”He put a lot of despise on the word ‘degenerates’, a fake despise, to make her think he truly believed that.  
“Don’t call them that!” she rebuked. “And don’t judge people for what they are and for what they like!   
“But they are, right? I mean, they are freaks. Unnatural” he replied, but now he was saying those words hoping that she had disclaimed that. “No, they’re not! They are the most natural thing in the world. Because love is natural. Every kind of love.”  
That was it, Bill had his answer. In the future, they didn’t judge someone on account of that. Men didn’t have to act all tough, they didn’t have to demonstrate their virility, they didn’t have to like women.   
“So, if everybody likes, erm, wine, but I like beer, is that okay?” he asked, just to be one hundred percent sure she had understood.  
“More that okay” she replied with a big smile.   
What a great feeling! He felt lighter, like they had taken away half the weight of his body. If that truly was the future that was awaiting him, it was the best future he could hope for. 

...

Emily liked seeing the change in his eyes. Those eyes always dark and angry, that made him look always focused on something complicated, and that attracted the mocks of everybody in camp, had finally lighted.   
What had changed? A new awareness? A new horizon? And why was Bill so interested in that matter? Emily thought she would never know, but she felt she had created a new connection with that strange man.   
And… now that she thought about that… yeah, why not? Everybody said Bill was good with guns. He had no patience, for sure, but she wouldn’t have minded.   
“While we are here, do you mind if I ask you something in turn?”  
“Sure, what is it?”  
“I want to learn how to use a gun. I asked almost everybody, but some don’t want to and some others… apparently they aren’t fit for the task. But you are a good fighter, they always say it, so I was thinking…”  
Bill’s eyes widened in surprise.  
“You want me to teach you how to shoot?”  
Emily shrugged and smiled. What choice did she have?  
“I-I… well, I guess… I guess I can return the favor.”  
“Good. When do we start?”  
“I-I… T-tomorrow, I think. Yeah, tomorrow. We find a good spot, far from here and I’ll teach you how to use that goddamn gun!”

...

That night felt strange. Emily felt strange, different. Peaking at the starry night from under her tent, she felt older, heavier, owner of a new awareness. She was changing, she was growing. Or maybe she wasn’t changing at all, she was just discovering a new part of herself, a strange part of herself.   
She lifted from the carpets and bedrolls under her and gave a look around. Mary-Beth on one side, Tilly on the other, Karen a little bit away. They were all fast asleep, but Emily that night couldn’t follow their example.   
She stood up, slowly and quietly, and left behind their rhythmic and muffled breathings to head to the light of the campfire, still burning although the last log had been thrown in much time before. It must have been really late because the camp was empty. Everybody had already reached their tents, sleeping or lying down as the chaotic memories of the day crowded their minds.   
For the first time in her life, she felt the need to be alone. A very strange feeling, indeed, but she had to sort out her thoughts and she had to that on her own. So she sat down and as an impulse took her, she lifted her eyes towards the sky again.   
She had never seen all those stars in her entire life. Impossible if you live in a city, or even near a city, because the strong lights outshine the feeble ones of the stars. That wasn’t the first discovery, though, was it? In those weeks how many things had she learned? Her world had completely disappeared, but in its place a new one was born, far from the almost perfect one she came from, but surely interesting and sort of adventurous.   
And now, what was that new feeling? Curiosity? More like a will, a desire, a quest.   
That sky, so incredibly beautiful, black and blue sprinkled with silver, made the words of an old song come to her mind: “and I will learn to know the skies I’m under.” And that old song took every part of her brain, so that now she had started humming the tune.

Music: https://youtu.be/9ptM0B4tcWM

It was a rather cheerful tune, but also there was something sad in it. Something melancholic, that reminded her of a rubber band: it doesn’t matter how much you push forward, trying to reach the happiness, it will always pull you back to the longing. And then she started murmuring the words: “I came out of the woods by choice.”  
It had to be her choice. She might have stayed the way she was, or she might have tried something new, be someone new.  
Yes, that sky, that night, that song stuck in her head were creating a will, a desire, a quest. She thought about them all. Arthur, Charles, Hosea, Mary-Beth, Abigail…nomads, with no roots, no house, no certainties and no stability, but in exchange they had new places, new people, new experiences, the entire world provided every day for them to take it.   
A will, a desire, a quest. She wanted to explore, for real this time, not like when she played with Jack. She wanted to do what Arthur had done, try that aimless roaming that had appeared so useless to her at the beginning, but that maybe had its use after all.   
Yes, it didn’t seem such a terrible life and she wanted to learn, be like them. She had learned how to ride, more or less, she was about to learn how to defend herself, and after that she just had to learn how to live that life. How to be a hopeless wanderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I wanted to embrace the "homosexual Bill" theory because I truly believe he is. The first time I run across the dialogue between Charles and John, when they say "Bill likes no-one, except that Kieran maybe" that was my first thought, and later when I found the letter of dishonorable discharge from the army, my idea was half confirmed. SO, I don't know if it is true, but I like to think it is. 
> 
> That's all for now. Have a good day/night/week and...
> 
> see you soon!


End file.
